

i7- 




THE 



Woi^LD AS T HeAI\ T 



Containing Reminiscences of Institution Life, How Do the 

Blind See, Night Thoughts, Gold Worshippers, and 

other Productions in Prose and Verse never 

before Published in Book Form. • 



By LANSING Y. HALL. 



PUBLISHED FOR THE AUTHOR. 

FIRST EDITION. 



DANSVILLE, N. Y., 

A. O. BUNNELL, PRINTER, ADVERTISER OFFICE. 
1878. 



Copyright, 

1878, 

By L. V. HALL. 









DEDICATION. 

When I find a book that has no dedication page, I i^ery 
naturally infer that the author has no friends. To avoid 
this suspicion, I have been searching about among my 7iu- 
merons relatives and acquaintances, to find some one who 
would bear modestly and gracefully the honor which might 
be tims suddenly heaped upon him. From among many who 
have shown themselves worthy of my gratitude and esteem, 
by their sympathy, benevolence, courtesy, and uniform kifid- 
ness, I have selected my long-tried, faithful friend and 
classmate, the trusted confidant of my youth, the disci'eet 
counselor of my manhood, the co-partner and felloiv laborer 
of majiy of my literary toils, and the cheerful, hopeful 
Christian companion of my age, William Artman of East 
Sparta, to whom is inscribed this little volume. 

By his grateful friend, 

LANSING V. HALL. 



PREFACE. 

A FORMAL introduction to a stranger is always more 
or less embarrassing, because we do not know his tastes 
and feelings, nor what topic of conversation will please 
him. But if we wish to make a favorable impression, 
we usually put the best foot forward, and turn out the 
brightest side of our characters. This kind of uncer- 
tainty, diffidence and trepidation, I always feel in com- 
ing before the public with a new book. Aware that the 
first impressions of my readers will have much to do 
with their judgments and opinions of the whole work, 1 
find the preface the most important, and most difficult 
part of my book to write. 

It has long been customary for authors to apologise 
for afflicting the world with their productions. This 
has always seemed to me a ridiculous custom. Why 
should writers be more modest than other men ? When 
farmers and manufacturers bring their products into 
market, they do not hesitate to recommend them even 
above their real merits. Why then should not artists, 
thought-venders, and book-mongers, praise their own 



6 Preface. 

wares ? I have labored hard with body and mind, and 
under the most trying circumstances, to prepare what I 
trust will prove to be a very readable book ; and have 
written every line with my own hand, without help or 
suggestion from any one ; and if I must offer any apol- 
ogy whatever, it should be for publishing a new book 
just at this unpropitious time. But shall I wait for bet- 
ter times and lie idly on my oars while those depending 
upon my efforts are denied the comforts and privileges 
that others enjoy ? Should I not put forth every exer- 
tion to secure means requisite for the support and edu- 
cation of my young family, or Micawber-like shall I 
"wait for something to turn up?" Surely, my friends 
would not advise a delay that must prove so disastrous. 
My first design was to collect my contributions to the 
newspapers for the past few years, and publish a neat 
little volume of poems ; but remembering that I had 
reached a period of life when the fires of poesy begin to 
burn more dimly, when stars and flowers look less invit- 
ing than bread and beef; remembering that I had wan- 
dered through nearly every state in the Union, that during 
my intercourse with men I have been asked many thous- 
and questions about the blind, and that my life in some 
respects had been rather rich in experiences, I changed 
my plan materially, and concluded to publish a miscel- 



Preface. y 

lany of prose and verse, replete with my own observa- 
tions, and embodying answers to many important ques- 
tions. I do not expect it will please and interest every- 
body, for the author, I find, does not. 

I have felt from time to time impelled to publish 
either in book form, or through the newspapers my 
ideas and impressions of the world, and of my surround- 
ings, because I know that people have an excusable cu- 
riosity to learn what blind persons can find to think 
about. 

Besides, I meet with less natural obstacles in selling a 
book, than in any other pursuit, and less difficulty in 
bringing men to understand that a person without sight 
may think as profoundly, reason as logically, and arrive 
at conclusions quite as just as those who possess the 
organs of vision, provided his mind is well stored with 
facts and useful knowledge. 

Finally, as my chances in manual labor, and in the 
various business pursuits, are not equal to the opportu- 
nities of men with sight, I have been induced to publish 
occasionally my productions in book form, to offer them 
to the public in person, not intending to force my writ- 
ings upon the world, but to sell the products of my 
mind, as other men bring into market the produce of 
their land, or any article of manufacture or workmanship. 



8 Preface. \ 

Should the reader find in these pages faults and 
errors, he need not take to himself too much credit for 
the discovery, for the author is painfully conscious of 
their presence, and hopes they will not be charged to 
his lack of sight, as is sometimes done when great faults 
appear in the writings of the blind, but rather to a lack 
of artistic skill, and power to produce what a refined 
taste approves, — in a word, to his misfortune in not hav- 
ing been born a Milton or a Homer. 

L. V. Hall. 
Dansville, N. Y. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 

IJN TR OD UCTION. 

REMINISCENCE OF SIGHTLESS CHILDHOOD.— Poem. 

ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC— 

Importance of Employment— Gratitude — Appeal for Justice. 

GOLD WORSHIPPERS.— Poem. 

THE WORLD AS I HEAR IT— 

My Mother's Voice — First Fiddle — Voice^ an Index of the Mind — 
Voices of Great Men— Speech of Henry Clay— Voice of Jenny Lind 
— Henry Ward Beecher—E. H. Chapin— Frederick Douglass — Ne- 
gro Voices. 

EYES OF THE SOUL,— Poem. 

HOW DO THE BLIND SEE?— 

How the Deaf Hear — Mental Magjietism-Sense of Smell as Guide 
—Senses of Hearing and Touch as Guides— Finger Training— Feel- 
ing Colors— Harmony of Colors — Natural Desire to See and Hear. 

GATHERING SHELLS.— Poem. 
NIGHT THOUGHTS.— 

Laura Bridgman — Her condition — Education Commenced — Finger 
Talking— Recognition Through the Sense of Touch— Visit of Lau- 
ra's Mother— Parting with her Mother, Touching Description- 
Form Without Color — Flowers Without Color— Dreartis of the Deaf 
and Blind— What do the Deaf Think of Sound ? 

THE DESERTED CHAPEL. 



lO Table of Contents. 



BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN. 

LITTLE HANDS AND FEET. 

THE TURKEY. 

PIGS IN THE PULPIT. 

DANGERS OF COURTSHIP. 

BEAUTIFUL SNOW. 

MISERABLE MUD. 

MISS SUE PREME SELFISH AT HOME. 

CELESTIA CHARITY AT HOME. 

PAT AND THE FROGS. 

THE HOLE IN THE GATE. 

CHRONIC GRUMBLER. 

REMINISCENCES OF INSTITUTION LIFE — 

Initiation of Pupils — Bell Clapper Fever — Table Talk — The In- 
vestigation — Cutting the Belt-Rope — Visit to the Kitchen— Shower 
Bath — Locked Out — Theft — Plain Fare — Corned Beef — Negro 
Equality — Rule First — Hole in the Partition — Love Making — Pear 
nut Courtship — Habits of Intemperaiice — Smuggling and Confisca- 
tion — Brown Sugar Joke — Hanging Cats — Narrow Escape — Pla- 
cards Burned — Hoiv the Blind Eat — Liberal Donation — Ridiculous 
Blunders— The Bird that Could Sing but Wouldn't— Fighting — 
Funny Mistake — Waxed Ends — Corporeal Punishine^it — Visit of 
General Scott— His Reception— Surrendering his Sword. 
CONCLUSION. 



INTRODUCTION. 

I KNOW of no better way to introduce a book to the 
public, than by introducing its author. I seldom read a 
book of character and worth, without feeling a keen de- 
sire to know something more of the author, of his sur- 
roundings, his habits, his temperament, and the incidents 
of his life which have set in motion particular trains of 
thought, without falling or rising into sympathy with all 
his moods of mind, and wishing to learn more of his in- 
dividuality than I can gather from his works. 

We who find ourselves in a world of solid material, 
stubborn facts, and rough experiences, without the im- 
portant sense of sight to keep us from bumping our 
heads against walls, or snubbing against lamp-posts, or 
dropping suddenly into yawning cellars, are compelled 
to adopt expedients and methods that people with perfect 
sight have no occasion to use. We have, therefore, a 
life history peculiar to our condition. It would not be 
possible for me in this brief sketch, to enter into a detail 
of all the many devices employed by us, for the accom- 



1 2 Introduction. 

plishment of those things that Seem so inexplicable to 
oiM" friends, and to the world of eyes ; and, indeed, if I 
were to try, I should find it impossible to make myself 
understood. 

I am frequently stopped on the street by men who 
only wish to inquire if I know just where I am, where I 
am going, and whom I have the honor of talking with. 
This would provoke a saint to open profanity, if he did 
not take into consideration the fact that men have very 
inquiring minds, and women a curiosity that must 
be gratified. Again, my hand is seized by some one 
who wishes to be recognized, but does not choose to 
speak, knowing that the voice would betray his identity. 
In this way I am often held in speechless suspense for 
many seconds, and even minutes, which, as may be well 
imagined, is very embarrassing. Sometimes a friend 
assumes a false tone of voice, to test my ability to recog- 
nize persons by their voices ; but in which, I am happy 
to say, they seldom succeed in misleading me, — my ear 
detecting certain sounds which they do not know how 
to conceal. This always seems to me about as absurd, 
as it would be for a person on meeting a friend, to dis- 
tort his countenance into a horrible grimace, to see \{ 
his friend would recognize him. Of these little pleasant- 
ries, however, I do not complain, but only mention them 



Ifjtroduction. 1 3 

to show how little the mental condition of the blind is 
understood and appreciated. 

I trust it will not be thought an unpardonable egotism, 
if I speak in this connection of the methods by which I 
arrange my thoughts, ideas and sentiments, into prose 
or verse ; and how it may be supposed I am able to 
gain a knowledge of the many grand and beautiful 
things in nature, that light and color can only reveal to 
those who see. Very much of this knowledge, I appre- 
hend, is received from books, from public lectures, and 
from the conversation of well informed, refined, and cul- 
tured people ; but mainly through the other senses, 
which I possess in great perfection. Besides, there is a 
world of fancy in every mind, corresponding to the 
physical or outer world. This may be filled with beauty 
and harmony, aye, — even lighted up with imaginary sun, 
moon and stars. My method of preparing a poem, or 
any article for the press, has always been by dictation to 
an amanuensis; having first arranged in my mind, and 
committed to memory, the entire performance. Of late, 
I have found it easier to write my thoughts as they oc- 
cur to me, in my own hand, with a pencil, to be copied 
in ink. The art of literary and musical composition is 
not beyond the reach of the blind. Correct and elegant 
language may be acquired, by which original thoughts 



14 Introduction. 

may be expressed, and so complete a knowledge of the 
science of harmony may be had, and skill to execute the 
most difficult composition, that true genius is often 
shown both in the musical and literary productions of 
the blind. Poetic or musical inspiration may be drawn 
from an ideal world, as well as from a real one. Milton 
sung of heaven, and filled it with creations of his own 
fancy. Blind Tom peoples his world with beings quite 
as wonderful, and draws inspiration from nature, as she 
comes to him in the sounds of singing brooks, sighing 
winds, and whispering leaves. 

If I have succeeded in introducing myself to the read- 
er, I now beg leave to introduce my little book, and be- 
speak for it a kind reception. Should you find it dull, 
tame, insipid, or even stupid, do not throw it aside, wipe 
your critical glasses and say : " Well, that is just what 
one might expect from a writer who has never seen the 
world he attempts to describe. His imagery is unnatu- 
ral, his ideas obscure, his words ill chosen, and indeed 
the whole work is indicative of his condition." Please 
do not say this, but rather say, " Hall is not a born poet ; 
he has never felt the fervor of poetic inspiration, and de- 
serves not a place among the illustrious blind, whose 
sublime thoughts and grand conceptions gem the pages 
of classic literature." Be just without prejudice, and I 
will abide the result. 



REMINISCENCE OF SIGHTLESS CHILDHOOD, 

I KNEW a child near forty years ago, 

To whose blue eyes the light but dimly came ; 
Whose lonely lot was rendered doubly so, 

By finding few companions who could claim 
His confidence, or share his childish play. 

For well he loved the sports of other boys, 
And often whiled the tedious hours away 

By singing, jumping, and by boisterous noise. 
His parents were poor but honest country folk, 

Who lived far out from city's busy hum. 
Among the hills, whose echoes never woke 

With the boom of cannon nor the beat of drum, 
fie never heard the organ's solemn swell. 

Nor merry bells ring out the Christmas chime; 
His music came from meadow, grove and dell, 

From rushing flood, and thunder's voice sublime. 
His lack of vision made his hearing keen ; 

What others could not hear his ear took in ; 
The pleasure others found in landscape scene. 

He found in noisy Nature's ceaseless din; 



1 6 Reminiscences of Sightless Childhood. 

In song of birds, in crash of falling trees, 

The summer torrents and the brumal blasts, 
The chirp of insects and the hum of bees, 

And rustling leaves where light-winged zephyrs passed. 
All these to him suggested themes for thought, 

And to his struggling mind gave forms and facts. 
He knew the groaning tree to the ground was brought 

By sharp, resounding blows of the woodman's axe. 
He traced its 'cumbent trunk from limb to butt, 

And felt the stump on which the giant stood ; 
He found its glossy leaves and toothsome nut. 

And named the hickory monarch of the wood. 
He climbed the hills, and measured with his mind 

Their hight above the level land below ; 
He climbed the trees and felt their fruits, to find 

How the apple, peach and pear and cherries grow. 
And he would sit, on many a summer night. 

And listen to the sounds from meadow marsh ; 
The piping frog and newt gave him delight. 

While to all other ears their songs were harsh. 
He thought the distant stars were silver bells, 

With golden tongues that tinkled as they swung ; 
That e'en the moon where airless silence dwells, 

Her minor music on the night air flung. 



Reminiscences of Sightless Childhood. ij 

-And he did hear, and now records with care, 

Strange voices in the silent winter's night, 
Sweet music floating on the pulseless air, 

When snow lay on the meadows, still and white. 
When all the brooks were bound in icy chains, 

When all the leaves had fallen from the trees, 
When all the birds had flown to summer plains, 

And not a whisper floated on the breeze ; 
Yet strains of marvelous music filled his ear. 

Like angels chanting round the throne of God; 
"Now soft and low, again so full and clear, 

That words were almost heard and understood. 
Ah ! can it be that heaven was then so near 

That sounds celestial reached that sinless soul ? 
That this untaught and sightless child could hear 

The rivers of eternal pleasures roll ? 
If so, oh. Father! bring the wanderer back 

To the sweet Eden of his childish bliss. 
He asks not day upon his darksome track, 

But light divine; oh. Father! grant him this. 



ADDRESS TO THE PUBLIC. 

I DO NOT profess to be a representative man, and may 
not express in every particular the sentiments of my 
class, but in behalf of those with whom I have conversed 
upon the subjects i wish here to present, and who agree 
with me in opinion, I make this appeal. Do not dis- 
courage by underrating, by indifference, or by severe 
and unjust criticism, the literary efforts of those who are 
forced to mental labor, because some bodily infirmity 
precludes the possibility of their competing successfully 
with other men in the industrial pursuits. Let every 
one use his own talent. If it prove to be gold, help him 
to place a true value upon it. If it be silver, teach him 
that the world has use for such ; and if it be only brass, 
let him know that even the baser metals have a com- 
mercial value. I do not insist that the public should 
buy trash, either in a musical or literary form, because 
they are the pro,ductions of unfortunate people. But if 
they are readable, or playable, if in conformity with 
rules of rhetoric or thorough bass, if they afford inno- 
cent pleasure and instruction, then it is well, indeed, it 



Importance of Employment. 19 

is best to purchase them. After many years of experi- 
ment, trial and adaptation of machinery to the uses of 
the bhnd, it has been shown that many useful articles 
can be manufactured by a class of persons who for ages 
were supposed to be helpless, and must live as pension- 
ers upon public charity. Many of these articles will 
compare favorably in quality and workmanship, with 
goods of the same class made by seeing mechanics. 
There is one drawback, however ; we cannot work with 
the same celerity, hence we can never compete success- 
fully with seeing labor. For this reason we ask public 
favor to compensate for the obstacles we have to en- 
counter. It seems to me there is a wise policy in ex- 
tending patronage to the industrious and enterprising 
blind, and indeed to every person who is trying under 
difBculties to be useful. If you have a man living in 
your community who has lost one or both arms, but has 
a fine voice, and a thorough knowledge of music, give 
him a place in your church choirs and pay him liberally. 
Employ him in your families and in every way encour- 
age him to use his remaining faculties for self-support. 
, And if there is a man or a woman among you without 
sight, who has been educated as a music teacher, or to 
any of the professions, arts, or trades that come within 
the scope of possibilities for the blind, give him or her 



20 Address to the Public. 

employment. It is sad to be surrounded by " ever dur- 
ing dark," but sadder still to be unemployed, — to sit 
and brood over misfortunes that grow more intolerable 
as we reflect upon them. Cheerful and pleasant friends, 
steady employment, a consciousness of self-dependence 
and respectability, are the best antidotes for despond- 
ency and melancholy. By all means give the blind 
something to do. Ascertain how their capabilities can 
be utilized. If they are limited to only one or two pur- 
suits, encourage them to manly exertions in those direc- 
tions. Help them to feel that they are numerals, not 
ciphers in society. If they are educated and refined in 
feelings, manners and deportment, if they possess good 
moral character, are trying to maintain honorable and re- 
spectable positions among men, and endeavoring to rise 
above the shadows of the great calamity that rests upon 
them, I see no reason why they should not be received 
into good society, and treated in all respects like other 
men and women. When you meet them do not pass 
them by in silence, fearing they will not recognize you ; 
for we have many ways of identifying our friends. 
Speak frankly and cordially, in your natural tone of 
voice. Do not try foolish experiments upon us to see if 
we will recognize you. They make us feel awkward 
and unpleasant. Do not indulge in coarse jokes at our 



Gratitude. 2 r 

expense, about the blunders we are liable to make, or 
the language we use to express our ideas. For exam- 
ple, if I wish to communicate the fact that I have visited 
and examined (in my way) a public building, or any ob- 
ject of interest, I say I have seen that house, or that 
thing. If I make the acquaintance of any distin- 
guished man, I say I have seen that man. This may 
not be strictly true, and yet custom compels us to adopt 
phrases in common use. Should I use the word feel for 
see, which would be much nearer the truth, my language 
would be thought indecent, and would be justly the sub- 
ject of ridicule. Indeed, with my mind's eye I do see 
all these things, and they go to make up my world of 
imagination. The aim of the blind should always be to 
talk and appear as nearly like other people as possible ; 
and in this I feel we ought to be encouraged. The 
blind as a class have been charged by some writers with 
moroseness, irritability and ingratitude. Now I repel 
this charge as false and groundless ; and had I space, 
would try to vindicate my brothers in affliction from this 
accusation. It is often remarked that persons without 
sight are more cheerful than could be expected. We 
are sometimes sensitive, and show proper resentment 
when our feelings are trifled with ; but are seldom un- 
grateful to our friends for favors kindly bestowed. This 



22 Address to the Public. 

brings me to speak of the uniform kindness I have 
always received from the people among whom I have 
lived. But more especially from the citizens of Dans- 
ville, who have always given me liberal patronage in the 
various enterprises in which I have been engaged, and 
have many times furnished material aid which has 
greatly helped me to bear my responsibilities. In all 
my wanderings, through nearly every state in the union, 
and the Canadas, I have received only the kindest treat- 
ment, and many, very many assurances of respect and 
esteem. I am convinced that the true passport to the 
society and confidence of ladies and gentlemen all over 
the world, is intelligence, moral worth, and correct de- 
portment. Doubtless the magic key that opens men's 
hearts is gold, but they will open at the touch of human 
sorrow, borne with cheerful submission. There are 
born noblemen in free America, as certainly as there are 
born kings in Europe, — Nature's princes, whose great 
hearts throb with kindliness and sympathy. Many such 
men have I met in my wanderings, and will cherish 
them in my memory while I live. I have often felt, 
while in the magnificent presence of such men, and while 
listening to their words of tender regard and disinterest- 
ed counsel, as Peter must have felt on the Mount of 
Transfiguration, when he . exclaimed, ** Lord, it is good 



Plea for yustice. 23 

for us to be here." The world in general is not so bad 
as dyspeptic people think it, and no class of persons 
have greater evidence of this, than the blind. 

We have been the pets of public beneficence. We 
have institutions of learning, of which the nation has 
reason to be proud. Nor are we ungrateful for them. 
We may not have come up to the people's expectation, 
but great progress has been made, and the condition of 
the blind, both in this country and Europe is wonder- 
fully improved. Whether we shall be able to utilize the 
knowledge we have thus received, will depend very 
much upon public confidence in our capabilities. If 
you have work that we can do as well as seeing men, 
give us a fair show. If its accomplishment depends up- 
on a correct and cultivated ear, or on light and sensitive 
fingers, our chances are more than equal. But should 
we fail, do not always charge it to a want of sight, but 
to our stupidity, if I have failed as a writer, do not say 
it is because eyes are indispensable to mature thought, 
inventive genius, and a healthy imagination. Read the 
history of the illustrious blind, and say if mind, heart 
and soul can not be developed in the darkness. 



GOLD WORSHIPPERS. 

Within a faded volume, dim and old, 
I find this musty maxim tersely given : 

" The magic key to human hearts is gold ; 

But love unlocks the crystal gates of Heaven." 

Our homes are not so happy as of old, 
Our hearts are not so merry as of yore ; 

We find that naught can purchase love but gold, 
That Virtue begs a pittance at the door. 

There was a time when Beauty bore the sway ; 

There was a time when Wit the world controlled ; 
There was a time when Valor won the day; 

But now the noble knight that wins is Gold. 

The ancient Ghebers worshipped light and fire ; 

The Brahmins bowed to gods of wood and stone ; 
But now, 'neath marble dome and gilded spire. 

The deity adored is gold alone. 

It overlays the altar and the cross ; 

It dignifies the monarch and the clown ; 
The wealth of moral worth is counted dross ; 

The million miser wears the golden crown. 



Gold Worshippers. 25 

'Tis time this mad idolatry should cease ; 

'Tis time her prophets and her priests were slain ; 
Let earth do homage to the Prince of Peace, 

And the reign of gold shall be the golden reign. 

The Christ came not with pomp and princely show ; 

His followers were lowly and despised ; 
He courted not the high nor shunned the low; 

A very God, in human flesh disguised. 

He brought a marvelous message from above, 
A gift of grace and pardon from the King ; 

He claimed no tithe or tribute but of love, — 
A penitent and contrite heart to bring. 

He banished brokers from the house of prayer. 
He raised the dead and made the dumb to speak, 

Unsealed the blinded eye, unstopped l4ie ear, 
He fed the poor, and lifted up the weak. 

The way to life, He said, is plain and straight. 
It leads to joy, and peace, and heavenly light : 

The way to death is through a golden gate. 

And broad the way that leads to endless night. 

Shall we accept the sacrifice He made, 

And enter in the Shepherd's sheltering fold ? 

Or like the Judas who his Lord betrayed. 
Sell soul and heaven for the miser's gold ? 



26 Gold Worshippers. 

Say, which is best, true piety or gold ? 

This metal worship or the living God ? 
Ye can not have them both, as we are told, 

See to it, then, which pathway shall be trod. 

Array your idol in his robes of state; 

Set up his image on his golden throne; 
Throw open wide the temple's gilded gate, 

And thus proclaim that gold is God alone. 

Or else array yourselves in plain attire, 
Set up the love of Christ in every heart, 

Let each affection feel its fervent fire, 

And with this money-worship bear no part. 

Now make your choice between your gold and heaven, 
Buy all the sinful pleasures wealth can bring. 

Increase them through the years to mortals given, 
And die at last — a beggar, not a king. 

Yes, make your choice between your gold and heaven. 
Find peace and pardon in a Savior's blood ; 

Freely bestow what free to you is given, 

And meet at last the welcoming smile of God. 



THE WORLD AS I HEAR IT, 

In my perambulations through a life of nearly fifty 
years, not altogether barren of events, I have heard 
some things that people who have longer ears than 
mine, do not hear; much that would not be proper to 
record here, and much that would not do credit to man- 
kind in general. It is a curious fact that people often 
say ridiculous things in the presence of those who can not 
see, under the impression that they can not hear. There 
is also another curious fact, that men and women do not 
learn how to dissemble with their voices, as they do 
with their faces. They go about their business, or du- 
ties, with a smile of amiability on their faces, while every 
tone of their voices tells the ear of perplexities, irritabil- 
ity, and a thoroughly sour temper ; or that there is sor- 
row, disappointment, or hatred, deep down in the heart. 
There are some, however, who think they have learned 
how to hide their thoughts and feelings from the ear as 
well as from the eyes, but they do not often succeed 
well with us whose ears are trained to the most occult 
qualities, and finest intonations of the human voice. 



28 The World as I Hear It. 

Dogs, horses, and other domestic animals possess this 
power of discrimination, so I do not claim for my class 
any great amount of credit. 

The first sounds that probably greeted my ears, came 
from the bronchials of a kind old aunt, whose voice re- 
sembled the raspings of a katydid, or the squeaking of a 
gate, rather than a vox humana; but no doubt it then 
sounded melodious to my infant ears. I remember that 
when a child I used to go to this same old aunty for a 
sweet baked apple, or a nutcake, a bird cooky, or a 
double-fist full of real old Yankee pumpkin pie. Even 
then her voice sounded melodious ; but in later years 
when she used to scold me and the other boys for steal- 
ing her bell pears, I thought her voice rather harsh, and 
her temper not so sweet as the bell pears. I always 
thought my mother's voice mild and pleasant ; and so 
it was, — blessings on her sweet memory. She was one 
of the dearest, kindest, and best mothers that a poor 
sightless boy ever had. Her tones were full of tender- 
ness, love and sympathy, such as I may never hear 
again this side of heaven. The labors and cares of such 
a family as hers, would have made most women fretful 
and impatient ; but cold duty was not her incentive to 
action ; hers was a labor of love. She was not dignified, 
queenly, nor positive, in her manner, but friendly, famil- 



My Mother's Voice. 29 

far and very gracious toward her children, and ready to 
make allowance for all our little foibles. Her early ed- 
ucation having been somewhat neglected, her vocabula- 
ry was limited, but her flow of words was copious, and 
her conversation cheerful. Her words of reproof to me 
were always mild, and her voice gentle, unless I had 
been engaged in some outlandish piece of boyish mis- 
chief, such as committing depredations upon her maple 
sugar, preserves, or honey, making raids on my sister's 
work-basket or flowerbed, putting split sticks on the 
dog's tail and ears, the cat's head in a stocking, pins in 
the chair-bottoms, or thistles in somebody's empty boots. 
For these and similar pranks, she would often reprove 
me with words so kind, and in tones so full of sorrow, 
that they reached my heart more effectually than it 
could have been reached through my back. Her pa- 
tient, cheerful christian life, has never lost its influence 
upon me. The tender, sympathetic tones of her voice, 
come to me even now in my dreams ; and I seem to lis- 
ten as of old to her counsel, and mild reproof 

I am not a believer in spiritual materialization, but 
familiar voices of the dear departed sometimes come to 
me so distinctly as to startle me from a deep revery, or 
waken me from a protracted dream. 

I believe that children have a keener relish for food 



30 The World as I Hear It. 

than we whose mouths are seared, and nerves or taste 
blunted by the use of tobacco and other stimulants ; 
and I believe they enjoy pleasant sights and sweet 
sounds better than we whose senses are satiated, and 
taste rendered fastidious by too much culture. The first 
musical sounds that thrilled my soul to its center, that 
filled my whole being with the most ecstatic joy, that 
charmed my young heart as it never has been charmed 
since, were the tones of a cheap two dollar fiddle ; and 
that, too, in the hands of one who at that time could not 
play a single tune on it. But the new, shrill tones of 
the catgut were enough for me. I was fascinated, trans- 
ported, — could only laugh and rub my hands with su- 
preme delight. I was about seven years old, and re- 
solved then and there to learn how to fiddle. This res- 
olution I have kept to the letter, having never made 
proficiency enough on that instrument to call it violin 
playing. I have since heard this king of musical instru- 
ments played by Ole Bull, and other master performers. 
I have heard Jenny Lind, the Black Swan, and other 
popular singers, I have heard oratorios, operas, phil- 
harmonic concerts, and many first-class musical enter- 
tainments in New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, Wash- 
ington and other large cities ; but I have never heard 
any thing that so thoroughly delighted me, that so 



First Fiddle. 3 1 

thrilled and tickled me, from the very roots of my hair 
to the tips of my toes, as that two dollar fiddle. I 
would give my interest in the new pipe organ of the 
new M. E. church of this town to be so tickled again. 

It is thought by some scientists that insects, and some 
of the brute creation can hear sounds that we of the 
human species can not hear. This may be true. Many 
of the animals and insects which we think are silent, 
may have voices perceptible to finer ears than ours. 
The human ear cannot hear a tone above a certain pitch. 
The vibrations are too quick to act upon the tympanum, 
or to be appreciated except by a fine organism. I ap- 
prehend that this may be attained to some extent by 
culture. I think, too, that a want of sight from birth, 
creates such a necessity as to force the cultivation of the 
ear, to that extent that we can hear sounds, and quali- 
ties of sound that others do not hear. 

On meeting with a stranger I have been frequently 
prepossessed as to the character of the person, some- 
times favorably, and sometimes unfavorably. These 
impressions a better acquaintance has sometimes proved 
false, but almost invariably proved correct. My opinion 
is made up, mainly, I think, from what I hear in the 
tones of the voice. There are oral qualities of the voice 
that indicate the moral and mental status of the man or 



32 The World as I Hear It. 

woman, as emphatically as the visible expression of the 
face can do it. It may be difficult for me to define this 
test, so that the reader will catch m}^ meaning. If he 
has ever observed that a long-nosed, sharp-chinned, 
black-eyed woman, with a spit-fire expression on her 
whole visage, has usually a husky, waspish voice, that 
she speaks with a rapid, spiteful utterance, making each 
word sound as if it had been spit at you ; if the reader 
has given this subject any thought, he will have some clue 
to my meaning. Rapid, or slow utterance, indicates the 
temperament ; but the quality of the voice tells the con- 
dition of mind. When I meet with a man or woman of 
scholarly attainments, with broad and liberal views, a 
large heart and tender sympathies, I commonly find a 
voice in keeping with such a character, — a full, round, 
resonant voice,"^deep, and often grave in a man ; a rich 
contralto, or pure soprano in a woman, with a sound of 
thought and culture about it, that makes every tone tell 
of the lady or gentleman. When I meet with a person 
of a satirical, or sarcastic mold of mind, whose wit is 
made a weapon, and whose words sting like bees, I 
usually find a sharp, cold, ringing voice, with no sympa- 
thy in its tones, and no mercy in its accents. A humor- 
ist, who uses his wit to excite mirth, has a different qual- 
ity of voice. It is commonly clear and ringing, but 



Voice an Index of the Mind. 33 

warm, sympathetic, and often tender. It is cheerful, and 
capable of many modulations. A pious voice has still 
other qualities of tone that can easily be heard. A man 
or woman who wishes to make a show of his or her re- 
ligion, falls naturally into the habit of speaking in a 
sanctimonious tone ^3f voice. It has a sorrowful, melan- 
choly tinge, but usually so thin that the devil shines 
through. I have often heard such people talk at love- 
feasts, when to my ear, every word had the hiss of the 
serpent that lay coiled in the heart. I find that the 
voices of people who enjoy their religion, are cheerful, 
hopeful, kind, merciful, and sympathetic ; while those 
who regard religion as a cross and a burden, have a 
sound of weariness and apprehension about their voices, 
as if they lived in constant fear of coming short in some 
duty, known or unknown. Of course the opinions we 
may form of people, whether from voice or face, will 
always be more or less affected by our prejudices, or by 
what we may have heard of the fruits they bear. But 
when we meet with a total stranger, of whose antece- 
dents we know nothing, whose record is with God, and 
not in our reach, then our opinions will be unbiassed. 
In pursuing my business as a book agent, it has been 
my privilege to meet and converse with thousands 
of men and women of all classes and conditions. The 



34 The World as I Hear It. 

necessity of learning something of their character and 
feelings, has made me a close observer of the human 
voice. I believe that the blind are as capable of reading 
character, as they who see ; and that the analysis of 
voices would be an interesting study for any one. I get 
my knowledge of the world of mankind, mainly through 
this medium ; and although I often make egregious 
blunders in forming my conclusions, I find that other 
men do the same. 

The first great orator I ever heard was Daniel Web- 
ster, in an address to the people of Charleston, South 
Carolina, in 1847. ^ ^o not now recall a single word 
that he said, but his voice still rings in my memory. It 
was one of those deep, baritone voices, that not only 
fills the ear, but fills the soul, and sends its echoes to the 
most sacred chanjbers of the heart. I have since heard 
the voices of Henry Clay, John C. Calhoun, Thomas H. 
Benton, Lewis Cass, Stephen A. Douglass, Frederick 
Douglass, Gerritt Smith, Joshua R. Giddings, Tom Cor- 
win, Salmon P. Chase, Charles Sumner, and many more 
of our great American orators and statesmen, but I have 
never heard a grander, or more impressive voice, than 
that of Daniel Webster. The immortal Clay had a 
very deep, dignified voice, that expressed great strength 
and nobility of character, and so had the great Benton, 



Voices of Great Men. 35 

and General Cass, and Gerritt Smith. All these men of 
mighty intellect and high purposes, had voices indicating 
great will-power, coupled with great vital force and 
physical endurance. One thing I have observed that 
may be worthy of mention. I have rarely heard rich, 
resonant, or even cheerful voices come from puny, sickly 
people, however well cultivated. There must be health 
of body and mind, — there must be cultivation of the in- 
tellectual faculties, and of the moral sentiments, to have 
a full, round, rich, melodious voice. Where there are 
great bodily infirmities, I seldom find that cheerful, me- 
tallic ring about the voice, and yet I did know one ex- 
ception to this general rule. A late deceased clergy- 
man of this town, who labored for the Master to the 
very last moment of his life, had a voice which was al- 
ways clear and pleasant, even cheerful and happy ; and 
yet a post mortem showed nearly all his vital organs 
badly diseased, and he must have suffered great bodily 
pain ; but I never heard a peevish or complaining tone 
in his voice. 

It would be well for students of law and theology, to 
remember that if they want full, rich, resonant voices, 
they must have bodies in proportion to their minds. 
Can we expect as much power, volume, compass and 
variety, from a small reed organ, as from a large pipe 



36 The World as I Hear It. 

organ, with all the pipes, keys, stops and combinations 
necessary to perform one of Handel's grand choruses ? 
Can we expect a thin, bent-backed, narrow chested man 
or woman, whose lungs have been sacrificed to brain 
making, to have as much volume of voice as a man who 
stands erect as God made him, who inhales and respires 
pure air with a capacity of lungs like a blacksmith's 
bellows, whose voice like Goliath's can be heard in the 
camp of his enemies, or modulated to the tender tones 
of a nursery song? I believe there is nothing short of 
the archangel's silver trump so grand, so stirring and 
awakening as the great voice of a great man. 

I have made the tones of the human voice, as a medi- 
um of thought and feeling, the study of my life. When 
but a child I knew when my parents and others were 
pleased or displeased with me, if I could but hear the 
slightest sound of their voices, without a word of re- 
proof It has always been an open door to the heart 
and conscience of those with whom I have come in con- 
tact. It tells the ear of every mood of mind, and im- 
pulse of the heart; of every dormant passion and lust, 
of moral excellence, or low and sensual tastes, of refine- 
ment or grossness of feeling, and in fact, every phase of 
character. 

While a pupil at the New York Institute for the blind, 



speech of He my Clay. 37 

I had an opportunity to study character as manifested 
through the voice. Not only of the officers, teachers 
and pupils, whose salient points and weaknesses I knew, 
but the great minds, hearts and sympathies of illustrious 
men and women, who used to visit our Institution. We 
were always delighted to have celebrities come to see 
us, and to let us see them through their voices. Among 
such notables as I can remember were the it^mortal 
Clay, James K. Polk, General Winfield Scott, Thomas 
H. Benton, members of the New York and New Jersey 
legislatures, Forrest, the great tragedian, and Martin F. 
Tupper, the small English poet. Of all these, we 
thought that Mr. Clay made us the best speech, and Mr. 
Polk the poorest. I well remember the contrast be- 
tween their voices, and manner of addressing us. Mr. 
Clay confessed himself embarrassed, for almost the first 
time in his life. He said, as nearly as I can recall his 
kind speech, " My dear young friends, I feel, for some 
reason inexplicable to myself, a degree of awkwardness 
and embarrassment that I have never felt in the presence 
of any public assembly. I can see your thoughtful and 
emotional faces, but you cannot see mine. This makes 
me feel sad. I can see that many of you are educated 
men and women, — that you are not ignorant, as persons 
of your class must be without an Institution of learning 



38 The World as I Hear It. 

like this. Of your way of seeing me, I am ignorant, 
except it be through this poor, worn-out, broken-down 
voice of mine. But I know you can hear my words, 
and I feel that you can penetrate my thoughts and mo- 
tives, and the hidden chambers of my heart better than 
people can whose eyes I can look into." I do not claim 
to give Mr. Clay's words verbatim at this late date, but 
it contained so much that was inspiring and encourag- 
ing to us, so few reminders of our common misfortune, 
so much genuine appreciation of the progress we were 
making against the obstacles that hedged up our way, 
that I have never forgotten it. Mr. Polk accompanied 
Mr. Clay, and after we had sung The Star Spangled 
Banner in full chorus, the little ex-president, in a light, 
thin voice, which we all thought in admirable keeping 
with the caliber of the man, addressed us. I will not 
attempt now to give even a synopsis of this speech. 1 
remember it was kind, but humiliating to us ; full of 
commiseration for our sightless condition, and in a gen- 
eral way depreciating. I remember that in answer to 
the comments and criticisms made by the boys on the 
comparative greatness of the two men, and the difference 
between their voices, a chum of mine made this apolo- 
getic remark : " You can not expect a pistol to give 
as loud a report as a cannon." 



y 



Voice of yenny Lind. 39 

I think we were favorably impressed with the magnif- 
icent voice of Mr. Forrest, with its great depth, power 
and flexibihty, the capabihty of its modulation to pro- 
duce the highest histrionic effects, and so transparent as 
to show every shade of feeling. It was a voice both 
emotional and devotional. I have never heard the 
Lord's prayer given with such power by any clergyman 
as by Edwin D. Forrest. 

We had also the good fortune, about this time, to 
hear the magnificent voice of the Swedish Nightingale, 
Jenny Lind. I had long heard of her as a popular fa- 
vorite ; of the gratulations she had received in England 
and America, amounting almost to adoration, and I had 
tried to imagine what her voice must be like. I had 
fancied that a voice so powerful, so rich and harmonious 
as hers, must be like the diapason of a great organ, 
loud, full and rapturous, with no tones of tenderness, for 
the heart bowed down with sorrow. But almost the 
first sound of her voice dispelled this illusion, and 
showed me how tame had been my conception of her 
remarkable genius, her artistic skill, and her vocal pow- 
ers. She visited our Institution with but few friends 
and attendants, with no show of ostentation or pampered 
conceit, expressed a desire to see the pupils, to hear us 
sing, and to gratify us in return by singing for us. I 



40 The World as I Hear It. 

well remember when it was announced to us that Jenny 
Lind was in the parlor and wished to see us in the 
chapel ; what expressions of wild delight, what trans- 
ports of joy and pleasure we all gave vent to. We were 
soon seated in the chapel, in a very orderly and decor- 
ous manner, and were requested to sing Mendelssohn's 
" Beautiful Primrose." Jenny Lind was then introduced 
to the officers and pupils by the Superintendent who 
said: "Teachers and pupils, we have the honor to re- 
ceive a visit from a lady of whose musical powers you 
have heard much, and whom you will now have the 
pleasure to hear for yourselves. The justly celebrated 
vocalist, Miss Jenny Lind is present, and has consented 
to favor us" — Here the speaker's voice was drowned in 
a storm of applause, such as I have seldom heard from 
the inmates of our Institution on any great occasion. 
Without ceremony the great singer threw her bonnet in 
a vacant chair, seated herself at the piano, and with her 
own accompaniment, poured out such a flood of rich 
and sparkling melody as I had never supposed could 
come from any human throat. She trilled and warbled 
like a bird, she executed the most rapid and difficult 
runs and shakes, she produced the crescendo, from the 
faintest murmur to a tone of the most wonderful power 
and volume I have ever heard. She also had the ven- 



Voice of yenny Lind, 41 

triloquist's faculty of throwing her voice so that it 
seemed to come from above. To me, it was all celes- 
tial, — all divine. I could have fallen down that moment 
and worshipped her. After the song was ended, in a 
few simple words, with a Swedish accent, she said, (as 
nearly as I can now remember,) ** My dear young 
friends, it has given me great pleasure to visit your 
beautiful home ; to see you, and to hear you sing ; and 
I hope my little song has pleased you." 

Her voice in speaking was not clear and sweet as I 
had anticipated, but it was one of those mild, pleasant, 
contralto voices, that speaks of a great, noble and gener- 
ous soul, of a loving heart, of quick sympathies, of kind 
impulses, and of domestic tastes and habits. 

I heard her sing once afterward under more favorable 
circumstances, at one of her inimitable concerts, before 
a delighted New York audience. This was a musical 
feast that seldom falls to the lot of mortals to enjoy. In 
rendering " I know that my Redeemer liveth," from 
Handel's " Messiah," her purity and flexibility of voice, 
her evident conception and transmutation of the great 
master's thoughts and feelings, so charmed and melted 
the hearts of her hearers, that nearly the entire audi- 
ence were in tears, and many of the old musical vete- 
rans in the orchestra wept like children. I heard but 



4 2 The World as I Hear It. 

one unfavorable criticism. After she had sung her fa- 
vorite song, "I have left my snow-clad hills," I heard a 
lady sitting just behind me remark, with all a mother's 
fondness in her voice, ** I believe my Mary can sing 
almost as well as that. She has a slight cold in her 
head, but when her voice is clear, it is almost as sweet 
as Jenny Lind's, and I believe in my soul I had rather 
hear her." 

In the winter of 1856-7, I visited Washington, where, 
during the few weeks I remained there, I found frequent 
opportunities to be present at the grave deliberations of 
the senate, and the stormy, indecorous debates of the 
house of representatives. Here I continued my study 
of voices, with much interest and profit. In the senate 
I heard a great many noble voices, as indicative, I doubt 
not, of large minds, broad views, high attainments, and 
exalted character as could have been seen in those 
grave, dignified faces. In the house, the qualities of 
voices differed somewhat. There were a few electric 
voices that fascinated and held the ear a willing captive, 
but more of the fulminating, stormy kind, that made up 
in noise what they lacked in logic and intellectual force. 

The most magnetic voice I have ever heard is that of 
Henry Ward Beecher. There is something about it, as 
indescribably and indisputably original, as the man him- 



Henry Ward Beecher. 43 

self. It fascinates you by its magnetism, it astonishes 
you by its compass and distinctness, it impresses you 
with its pathos, it charms you with its musical cadences, 
and holds you spell-bound with its endless variety of 
changing modulations. I have heard this prince of pul- 
pit orators many times, both in Plymouth church and in 
lecture halls. If he has an equal for magnetic power of 
voice, and for natural and forcible illustrations, for the 
sudden surprises he gives one by introducing a new 
thought in a new place, — if there is another orator com- 
bining all these remarkable qualities like Mr. Beecher, 
it has never been my good fortune to hear him. 

It is several years since I have heard Dr. E. \\. Cha- 
pin, but the echoes of his full, clear, sonorous voice, still 
linger in my memory. He is an eloquent speaker, 
earnest and stirring, and brings his hearers into the 
closest sympathetic relations with him. His style of 
oratory is unique and faultless, but his voice is not 
magnetic like Beecher's. It has a great compass, is 
flexible, and under complete control. It has in it the 
qualities that speak of benevolence, charity and all the 
Christian graces, but it does not excite to mirth, or melt 
to tears, like the magical voice of Henry Ward Beecher. 

The reader may be curious to know whether we who 
are without sight can hear any difference between the 



44 J^he World as I Hear It. 

qualities of a negro's voice, and the voices of the white 
race. Whenever I am asked this question I answer em- 
phatically, yes. There is a thin, empty, fuzzy tone 
about a negro's voice, that denotes shallowness of char- 
acter, feebleness of intellect, and grossness of tastes and 
feelings, while the voice of a white man is commonly 
clear, ringing, resonant, or deep, firm and commanding. 
These qualities of voice indicate brilliancy of intellect, 
nobility of character, a rich inheritance of moral pro- 
clivities, courage, high aspirations, &c. Of course there 
are exceptions to these general rules, and the grandest 
I ever knew is the cultivated voice, mind and manners, 
of Frederick Douglass. For scholarly attainments, in- 
ventive genius, vigorous intellect, and impressive style 
of oratory, he is acknowledged the peer of our best 
American journalists and lecturers. I read his paper, 
published in Rochester, N. Y., for many years, and 
thought it very ably edited. I have heard him speak 
many times, and on many interesting occasions, and 1 
have never heard an orator that so warmed my heart, 
and stirred my feelings as Frederick Douglass. I have 
long wished for an opportunity to express my admira- 
tion for this wonderful man ; for his grand achievements 
under difficulties, for his victory over cruel prejudices 
and oppression, for the ingenious manner in which he 



Voice of Frederick Douglass. 45 

escaped from a bondage worse than death, and for the 
energy and talents by which he has raised himself to an 
equality with his white brothers. 

Although Frederick Douglass is a cultivated man and 
is half Caucasian, yet his voice is decidedly negro. The 
fuzzy, husky qualities, that denote strong animal pas- 
sions and lusts, are smoothed out by culture, and a gen- 
eral refinement of his whole nature ; but that thin, reedy, 
empty tone of voice, so characteristic of the race is still 
observable, and to my ear detracts somewhat from the 
pleasure of hearing him speak. I have heard him, how- 
ever, discourse on his favorite theme, viz.: the injustice 
and cruelty of human bondage, when his soul seemed 
all on fire, when his voice rung like a clarion, when his 
great heart seemed ready to break with the wrongs and 
sufferings of his people, when his yellow skin seemed 
ready to burst with the flood of eloquence that poured 
from his throat ; and I thought, surely a w^hite soul may 
dwell in a black body. 

I have traveled much in the southern states, conversed 
with the colored people, heard them sing, pray, preach, 
and swear, and I have always been able to distinguish 
between the voices of white men and colored men. In 
women the difference is still more noticeable. The 
voice of a negress is commonly coarse, rough and 



46 The World as I Hear It. 

spongy, indicating a coarse nature, sensual desires, and 
strong animal passions; while the voices of white wo- 
men though sometimes pitched low in the scale are usu- 
ally firmer, purer, sweeter and more musical, with a bell- 
like ring, that tells the practiced ear of a finer organism, 
purer thoughts and desires, and of a more exalted na- 
ture. The difference between the voices of a pure 
minded woman, and of one with low, sensual tastes and 
feelings, is as strikingly perceptible to my ear, as the 
difference between the tones of a silver bell, and one 
cast from the coarsest brass. I have sometimes heard 
mulatto girls speak with quite pretty, feminine voices ; 
but these are the exceptions, and they doubtless inher- 
ited their sweet voices as well as their beauty from their 
white progenitors. 

The funny friend of my childhood was an old negro 
man, who had been the slave of my uncle, and was the 
general favorite of all the children in the neighborhood. 
His voice was as fuzzy as the skin of a peach, and I 
used to think the wool on his head made it so. He had 
a regular negro laugh, that always ended in a short, 
hacking cough. He could sing songs, and tell the 
most impossible ghost and witch stories that ever fright- 
ened a poor nervous boy into the belief that an invisible 
something was lurking in every dark corner to catch 



/ Negro Voices. 47 

him by the heels. This negro was a fair specimen, in 
voice, mind and character, of the superstitious and un- 
educated men of his race, as I have since learned. 

Dr. McCune Smith, who was chairman of the radical 
abolition convention in Syracuse in 1858, had a mild, 
pleasant, tenor voice, that sounded very scholarly. He 
is nearly white, however, and no trace of the negro 
qualities of voice remains. 

I did not hear the Black Swan speak, but her voice 
in singing had a marvelous compass and power. It was 
said she could sing down to G, the first line of the bass 
staff. 

Blind Tom has all the characteristics of the negro, 
both in speech and action. His voice is thin and crack-' 
ed, and his pronunciation anglo-African. 

I think also, that men and women of different nation- 
alities, have voices peculiar to each ; that an Irishman's 
voice differs from a German's, and an Englishman's 
from a Frenchman's, an American's from a Chinaman's, 
and that these differences can be distinguished by the 
sound of their voices, without hearing a word of their 
vernacular. It is possible that climate may have some- 
thing to do with the qualities of voices. I have observ- 
ed that in humid localities the people speak with a nasal 
twang, while in places where the air is hot and dry, their 
voices are low, faint, and feeble, and where the atmos- 



48 The World as I Hem- It. 

phere is dry and cool, a man will shout in one's ear in a 
stentorian voice as clear and ringing as a bugle note. 

If the eye is love's tell tale, the voice is as surely the 
messenger of anger. I need not hear an oath or a spite- 
ful word, to know that a man or woman is angry. The 
agitation and huskiness of the voice tell it in language 
plainer than words. This is true of all the passions. 

I come lastly to speak of the world as I hear it in the 
song of birds and insects, in the voices of the brute cre- 
ation, in the murmuring brooks, the whispering winds, 
the rustling leaves, the roaring floods, the dashing 
waves, the howling storm, and the crashing thunder. 
All these sounds are to my ear significant of natural 
beauty, order, harmony, grandeur, majesty, and sublim- 
ity. They speak of the infinite power, wisdom and. 
goodness of God. They tell me that God made all his 
creatures to be happy. That order is the great law of 
the universe. That pleasure, not pain is God's benison 
to man. That as morning succeeds the night, as sun- 
shine succeeds the shadows, as calm succeeds the storm, 
so our troubles and sorrows, pains and afflictions are 
but the passing chord in the great harmony of nature, 
whose modulation shall resolve at last into the sweet 
peace and everlasting joys of heaven, where the key note 
is praise to God who hath made us and given us life, and 
to Him who hath redeemed us from death by giving his 
life for us. 



EYES OF THE SOUL. 

What shall we think that hath not been thought ? 
Or, what shall we teach that has not been taught ? 
Or, what shall we bring that has not been brought 

From the mystical depths of mind ? 
One fact I find, that has not been lifted 
From a cloud of doubt that has not been rifted ; 
'Tis this, that the human soul is gifted 

With a sense that is never blind. 

It can see, though the organ of sight be dead; 
Can perceive, though all light from the eye be fled ; 
Can behold, though each nervous fibre and thread 

Be torn from the mortal eye. 
It is not confined to its temple of clay, 
But reaches out into glorious day, 
And throbs with the thrust of each vibrant ray, 

As it darts from the sunlit sky. 

It is not encased in a dungeon drear, 

But surrounds the man like an atmosphere ; 

Ah, who hath not felt its presence near, 

When a noble heart is found! 
We name its influence magnetism ; 
Its manifestation spiritism ; 
And naught but the grossest skepticism 

Will dare dispute the ground. 



50 Eyes of the Soul. 

This spiritual atmosphere, or soul, 

Is subject to the mind's control, 

And grows or shrinks as the seasons roll, 

As knowledge is sought or refused. 
The works of God are its daily food, 
His universe its latitude ; 
And when its powers are understood, 

Its laws will be less abused. 

The small-souled man may walk the earth, 
And boast his titles, wealth, or birth ; 
But his heart finds one perpetual dearth, 

And his hungry soul no food. 
The large-souled man may walk the world, 
His flag of love and truth unfurled, 
And never a lip of scorn is curled ; 

That man is the friend of God. 

Blot out his vision — yet he sees ; 
Doom him to silence — the world is his; 
Rob him of freedom — yet he lives. 

And moves the mighty throng. 
His noble presence still is felt. 
His magic words inspire or melt. 
And all his blows are at evil dealt, 

With either sword or song. 



HOW DO THE BLIND SEE f 

This may be regarded by some as a paradoxical ques- 
tion ; and yet it is not, if we accept the word see, in its 
fullest and broadest sense. Webster defines the verb to 
see, as follows : " To perceive by mental vision ; to 
form an idea or conception of; to discern ; to distin- 
guish ; to understand ; to comprehend." True, we do 
not see tlirough the same medium that you do who 
have perfect organs of sight, but we certainly perceive 
and comprehend the relation and condition of things 
about us. The Creator has so wisely made, and beauti- 
fully adjusted the external organs of sense one to an- 
other, and each to all, that when one is lacking, the 
others are made able by greater exercise to perform the 
functions of the missing one. For example ; if one loses 
his hearing, sight is rendered keener, and the nerves ac- 
quire a sensitiveness almost painful. Dr. Kitto, who 
was deaf from twelve years of age, speaks of this pecul- 
iar sensitiveness as follows : " The drawing of furniture 
as tables or chairs over the floor above or below me, 
the shutting of doors, and the feet of children at play, 



5 2 How do the Blind See ? 

distress me far more than the same causes would do if I 
were in actual possession of my hearing. By being 
unattended by any circumstances or preliminaries, they 
startle dreadfully; and by the vibration being diffused 
from the feet over the whole body, they shake the 
whole nervous system, in a way which even long use 
has not enabled me to bear." 

In the same interesting chapter on percussions he says : 
'* A few days since, when I was seated with the back of 
my chair facing a chiffonier, the door of this receptacle 
was opened by some one, and swung back so as to 
touch my hair. The touch could not but have been 
slight, but to me the concussion was dreadful, and al- 
most made me scream with the surprise and pain, — the 
sensation being very similar to that which a heavy per- 
son feels on touching the ground, when he has jumped 
from a higher place than he ought. Even this concus- 
sion, to me so violent and distressing, had not been no- 
ticed by any one in the room but myself" 

This physiological phenomenon is analagous to the 
sensations experienced by the blind, on approaching 
any tall or broad object. We feel their presence when 
we are several yards from them. I have sometimes 
been startled by the sudden impression produced by a 
lamp-post, or tree, when in fact it was a yard or more 



Hozv the Deaf Hear. 53 

from me. The sensation is somewhat like receiving a 
smart blow in the face. I am frequently aware of pass- 
ing a building while riding along a country road, and 
the proximity of trees, fences, and other objects is quite 
perceptible. 

This is not a latent sense developed by circumstances 
as some have supposed, but a wonderful acuteness of 
the nerves of the face, and more particularly of the eye- 
lids. These phenomena may, I think, be explained in 
this way. When one of the superior senses is absent, 
the perceptive force that has watched at the eye, or list- 
ened at the ear, is now transferred to the other nerves 
of sensation. In other words, a deaf person is all eyes, 
and extremely alive to tangible percussions, as will be 
seen in the case of Dr. Kitto and others. The blind are 
all ears and fingers, and certain of the inferior animals 
are said to be all ears and heels; I am not sure but 
there is some neck in both cases. Since it has been 
shown that new perceptions and conditions are devel- 
oped in the absence of one or more of the superior sen- 
ses, that the deaf are so keenly cognisant of vibration or 
jar, which is the father of sound, that the blind can feel 
the presence of objects at short distances, which is anal- 
agous to sight, it should not be thought strange that we 
make such frequent use of the word see, or that the deaf 



54 How do the Blind See f 

should make use of the word hear, and that these words 
are not without significance or import. 

Besides this there is a mental perception, (doubtless 
through a magnetic medium), of the presence or near- 
ness of other minds. This accords with the experience 
of man}/ persons. I have frequently entered rooms that I 
supposed to be unoccupied, judging from the silence that 
reigned, but on taking an inventory of my feelings, I found 
a consciousness of some one's presence, and this I have 
done when not the slightest sound aroused my suspicions. 
A little incident that occurred while I was a teacher in the 
New York Institution for the blind, will perhaps better 
illustrate this point. I called one evening at the ma- 
tron's room, to ask her to read a letter which had just 
been handed me. Supposing it to be a confidential one, 
and wishing to make sure that no one else was in the 
room, I inquired of the matron if she was alone. On 
receiving an affirmative answer, I handed her the letter, 
requesting her to read it. But feeling a consciousness 
that some other mind was present, — a strange mind, 
with which I had no sympathy, I walked round to the 
other end of the table, and placed my hand on a lady's 
shoulder, remarking to the matron that I felt sure there 
was some one in the room beside herself, and asked that 
the letter might be returned to me unopened. 



Menial Magnetism. 5 5 

From the long known existence of this perception or 
intuition, has grown the old adage, " The devil is always 
near at hand when you are talking about him." I am 
not sure that this magnetic condition is more largely 
developed in us than in those who see, but I am led to 
think it is for this reason : eyes are of paramount im- 
portance to those who have them ; and we who have 
them not, search for other media of communication. 
Mental presence is either inspiring and assuring, or de- 
pressing and embarrassing. I have observed that when 
in the presence of some people I have felt comfortable 
and assured, while in the presence of others I have felt 
diffident and uneasy. 1 allude here to persons with 
whom I had no previous acquaintance. Minds are felt 
in a ratio proportionate to their will-power. Shallow, 
conceited minds are not magnetic. I have been told by 
blind preachers, public lecturers, and concert singers, 
that they always feel the difference between an intelli- 
gent and appreciative audience, and one made up of 
coarse and uncultured people; and this consciousness 
they have felt before any demonstrations of applause or 
disapprobation were made. I have had many opportu- 
nities to experiment on my own feelings, in relation to 
this magnetic influence, or mental recognition. I was a 
concert singer in my younger days, and could always 



56 How do the Blind See ? 

tell whether I was singing to a large or small house, 
and whether my audience was in sympathy with me or 
not. If it is urged that I gained this knowledge 
through the ear, and not through the magnetic medium 
that I suppose to exist, I will add other experiences that 
may be more convincing to the reader. In pursuing 
my business as an itinerant bookseller for many years, 
I have frequently called at offices when their occupants 
were out, and on entering have often said to my guide, 
" Oh, there is no one here, let us go, and call again." 
On the other hand, I have often been conscious when 
entering a room, that there was not only one mind, but 
several minds present. If I should be asked to de- 
scribe this consciousness, or mental recognition, I should 
not know what language to employ. These are some of 
the compensations which the blind receive for the great 
loss they have sustained. The sense of smell is ranked 
as the least important of all the senses ; yet it is of great 
value to the blind. Through this avenue to the mind 
come many pleasurable sensations. By it we are aided 
in the selection of our food, in choosing ripe and health- 
ful fruits, in detecting decomposition, dirt and filth, and 
in ascertaining much that eyes discover to those who 
have them. Without it, flowers would have no attrac- 
tion for us, and life would lack many of its pleasures. 



Sejtse of Smell as Guide. 57 

At the risk of being classed among dogs and vultures, I 
acknowledge that I am often guided by my olfactories 
in doing things that seem so very unaccountable to my 
friends. In passing along the business street, my atten- 
tion is continually attracted by the odors that issue from 
stores, shops, saloons, etc. ; and these peculiar smells 
often direct me to the very place I wish to find. From 
groceries come the odors of spices, fish, soaps, etc. 
From clothing and dry goods stores the smell of dye 
stuffs. From drugs and medicines, the combined odor 
of many thousand volatile substances, — such as per- 
fumes, paints and oils, asafcetida, etc. From shoe stores 
comes the smell of leather ; and from books and station- 
ery, the smell of printer's ink. Hotels, saloons and liq- 
uor stores, emit that unmistakable odor of alcohol, the 
prince of poisons. To me the smell of alcohol, wines, 
etc., has ahvays since my earliest recollection been 
grateful and fascinating ; -and had I cultivated an appe- 
tite for strong drink, it would be as difficult for me to 
pass a liquor saloon, as for a man whose eyes are tempt- 
ed by a magnificent display of mirrors and bottles. I 
have often been made aware of open cellar doors, by a 
damp, musty smell that commonly proceeds from un- 
derground rooms, and have, I think, been saved from 
falling by this odd warning. I should have fallen how- 



58 How do the Blind See? 

ever, only a few days ago, into one of these yawning 
horrors, had it not been for my ever watchful wife who 
was providentially near, and called to me in time to save 
me from injury. Some workmen were laying a patch 
of sidewalk on Main street, in the town in which I re- 
side, and had opened a cellarway near which some of 
them were at work but did not warn me, doubtless be- 
cause they did not see me, for workmen are always very 
kind to me. 

I am guided and governed more by the ear, however, 
than by either of the other organs of sense. If I wish 
to cross the street, it tells me when teams are coming, 
how far they are away, at what rate of speed they are 
traveling, and when it will be safe to cross. If I find a 
group of men conversing, it tells me who they are. If I 
wish to enter a store or any place, it tells me where the 
door is, if open, by the sounds that issue therefrom; but 
in this I have sometimes been misled, by going to an 
open window, which always makes me feel awkward. 
Sound to me is as important as light is to the seeing, 
and brings to the mind a great many facts that are gath- 
ered through the eye when sight is made the prime 
sense. 

Much of my information, however, is received 
through the fingers. They are properly the organs of 



Sense of Touch as Guide. 59 

touch; although this sense is distributed over the whole 
body, even to the mucous membrane that lines the 
mouth and covers the tongue. When the fingers' ends 
have been hardened by labor, or from any cause, the 
lips and tongue are the most sensitive, and are often 
used in threading needles, stringing beads, etc., — very 
innocent uses surely to put the tongue to. This sense 
of touch is of necessity cultivated by the blind, until it 
often reaches a state of perfection seldom if ever found 
in the seeing. Of course its development is gradual, as 
is the growth of all the faculties. When I was quite a 
little child, and my fingers were soft, I could readily 
distinguish all the varieties of flowers that grev/ in my 
sister's flower garden, and could call them by name. 
From touch I knew all the common fruits, from the 
peach with its velvet skin, to the strawberry in the 
meadow, for which I used to search diligently with my 
fingers, and sometimes find, as I well remember, thistles, 
which were never quite to my taste. One thing among 
my childish sports and amusements, (for they were lim- 
ited), always gave great pleasure, and does even now. 
I loved to play along the brook or lake shore, to feel 
for smooth and odd shaped stones, for pretty shells, &c. 
Their beauty to me existed only in the great variety of 
shapes they presented, and in their smooth, pearly sur- 



6o How do the Blind See ? 

faces, as they never suggested to my mind any idea of 
color. Winter afforded me few opportunities for culti- 
vating my love for the beautiful. Summer was my 
heaven with its singing birds, its tinkling brooks, and 
its fresh and delicious fruits. I took great pleasure in 
examining with my fingers flowers, leaves and grasses, 
because their great variety of shape and texture, fed an 
innate longing after something that I could not then 
comprehend. When but an infant, I am told, nothing 
amused me so well as a branch of green leaves. My 
early boyhood was spent in rambling through the 
woods, hunting nuts, squirrels, chipmunks, &c., with 
other boys of my own age ; in climbing trees, digging 
for woodchucks, skating, coasting, and in performing all 
the feats common to boyhood, such as standing on my 
head, hopping, jumping, whistling, shouting, &c. I 
shall regret to have this page come under the eyes of 
my boys, for in noisy mischief they already exceed my 
most sanguine expectations, and need not a record ot 
their father's boisterous childhood to encourage them. 
This kind of life, however, had fitted me to enter upon 
a systematic and thorough course of study, which I did 
at the age of sixteen. I was received as a pupil of the 
New York Institution for the blind, in 1844. I entered 
in a good healthy condition of body and mind. Found 



Finger Trainmg. 6 1 

there boys and girls like myself without sight, yet earn- 
estly engaged in pursuing the various branches of Eng- 
lish education. Many of them were like myself full of 
life, fond of fun and mischief Many laughable incidents 
and anecdotes characteristic of such an institution are 
fresh in my memory, which I should be pleased to re- 
late, did they illustrate the subject in hand. Here I 
found sight, which I had always supposed so necessary, 
somewhat at a discount. I discovered that books, 
slates, maps, globes, diagrams, &c., could be seen 
through the fingers, and that children could learn quite 
as rapidly in this way as with sight. I was not long- 
either in discovering that the older pupils and graduates 
were intelligent, accomplished and refined; that they 
were treated more as equals by the officers, and that 
they were trotted out to show off the merits of the In- 
stitution, while we young blockheads were kept in the 
background. This I think did much toward inspiring 
me with ambition. My progress at first was slow, hav- 
ing to learn how to use the appliances. My fingers 
must be trained, my memory disciplined, and my habits 
of inattention corrected. No effort was made, however, 
to take the mirthfulness out of me, and I doubt if any- 
thing could have succeeded in this. My first introduc- 
tion to tangible literature, was in placing my hand on a 



62 How do the Blind See ? 

page of the Old Testament in embossed print. At first 
I could feel nothing like letters, or any regular charac- 
ters; only a roughness as though the paper had been 
badly wrinkled. A card was then placed in my hand, 
on which the alphabet was printed in very large type, 
and my attention called to each letter. My fingers, then 
soft and supple, were not long in tracing the outlines of 
each character, and my memory being naturally retent- 
ive, I was soon able to distinguish each letter and give 
its name, as my finger was placed on it. Another card 
was then given me in smaller type, which I mastered in 
the same way; and so on till I could read our smallest 
print. 

I have been thus minute in describing the rudi- 
mentary process of finger training, that my little readers 
may understand how it is possible for the fingers to be 
made useful to the blind. To show how quick is the 
perception through this avenue to the mind, it should 
be known that we cannot feel a whole word at once, 
but a single letter. And yet some of us are able to read 
more than a hundred words per minute, and to trace on 
raised maps, boundary lines, rivers, mountain chains, 
lakes, straits, gulfs, bays, to find the location of towns, 
islands, &c. It would seem that the fingers are capable 
of grasping almost everything that the eye embraces, 



Feeling Colors. 63 

though of course more slowly ; and from the wonderful 
acuteness of which they are susceptible has grown the 
popular impression that the blind can feel colors. I 
have been asked this question many thousand times, and 
have invariably replied that we can no more feel colors 
than the deaf can see sounds, or the dumb sing psalms. 
I am aware that it is stated by some eminent writers 
that the sense of touch in some persons has reached this 
perfection, but I have many reasons to doubt it. I have 
no personal object in contradicting this statement, other 
than to correct a popular error. Should be glad if it 
were true. It has been accounted for by scientific men 
upon this hypothesis : that colors differ in temperature ; 
that red is warmer than yellow, and yellow warmer than 
green, and so on through the spectrum. That violet is 
a cold color, as its rays are less refracted; that these dif- 
ferences are appreciable to delicate fingers. I have tried 
many experiments both with my own fingers, and with 
persons at our several institutions, who like myself were 
born without sight, and have never yet found one who 
could form the faintest idea of colors, from impressions 
received through the fingers. Indeed there is nothing 
in tangible qualities that suggests color, except differ- 
ences in texture. We may feel that a piece of broad- 
cloth has a harsh texture, and call it black ; or a soft 



64 How do the Blind See ? 

texture and call it drab or brown. In this we may 
guess right, for it is only a guess, after all. Wool buy- 
ers and dealers in cloth judge frequently of their quali- 
ties by touch ; and it is true that we who are without 
sight, come to be very expert in judging the quality of 
cloths, furs, &c. But to one who has never seen light, 
there is no suggestion of color through finger percep- 
tion. 

Between sound and color there is a much closer 

analogy traceable, as both are the result of vibration. 

The same language is used to express the qualities of 

each. We talk of harmony in sounds, and harmony in 

colors ; of lights and shades, of chromatics, blending, 

softness, sweetness, harshness, high, low, bright, dull, 

&c. May not a grand anthem or chorus be to the mind 

of one who has never seen light, what a fine picture is 

to one who has never heard sounds ? I should not be 

surprised to hear that some blind Yankee or Frenchman 

has invented a telephone, through which he can hear in 

the rippling brooks and bubbling fountains, the color of 

their waters ; in the songs of birds, the gorgeous tints 

of their plumage ; and in the distant roar of Niagara, 

the mighty grandeur of its scenery. To an imaginative 

mind, a well tuned, well voiced organ, may be made to 

represent all the colors of the rainbow, from the faintest 



Harmony of Colors. 65 

violet of the piccolo, to the darkest crimson of ihe sub- 
bass. Some blind person on being asked what he sup- 
posed red to be like, answered, " Like the sound of a 
trumpet." He might also have said, " Like a flame of 
fire." I once asked a blind boy, who had never seen 
light, if he could imagine a house on fire, and how he 
supposed it would look. He answered, " If it was a big 
fire it would look like a thousand trumpets all blowing 
in a different key." 1 then asked him what a pfcture is 
like. ** Like anything in shape you may wish to paint," 
he said, ** but in color, (if it is a fine picture), like one of 
Mozart's grand symphonies." I have many times asked 
my blind lady friends how they knew in what way to 
arrange their colors so as to make their fancy work 
look tasty and attractive. How they knew what colors 
blended, and what were discordant; and I have often 
received this answer: "By associating the names of 
the seven primary colors with the seven sounds of the 
diatonic scale, placing red as No. i, or key^ note, orange 
next, yellow next, then green, and so on to violet. 
Thus, red will not blend with orange, being the first and 
second of the scale, but red and yellow harmonize bet- 
ter, being thirds in the scale; red and green still better, 
and so on to red and deep violet, which are sevenths in 
the scale and do not harmonize. Thus we get the tetra- 



66 How do the Blmd See ? 

chord, red, yellow, blue and violet, which may be repre^ 
sented by the flat seventh of the chord C." But I leave 
this theory for some one to elaborate or refute, who has 
seen color, and return to my Institution life. 

The ear and voice are also trained at these schools 
for the blind, and music is made one of the chief arts. 
Piano tuning is also taught in a practical way. If this 
business is not taught in all the Institutions, it ought to 
be, for it comes fairly within the scope of our capabilities. 
And I will here say for the benefit of my brothers in 
the dark, that I have been very successful as a piano 
tuner, and the business is a practical one for the blind. 
Any one with a good ear may learn to tune well, but no 
one should undertake to repair so delicate a piece of 
machinery as a piano action, without long experience, 
mechanical ingenuity, great caution, and good judgment, 
having had opportunity to acquire the requisite skill. 
It was not my intention at the outset to write a 
sketch of my own life, but to demonstrate by my own 
experience that the inferior senses may be made to per- 
form many of the offices of sight. The eye has some 
functions, however, which the ears and fingers cannot 
perform. For example, if a piece of silk or woolen 
goods be handed me for examination, the nerves of my 
fingers will tell me whether it is fine or coarse, whether 



Natural Desire to See. 67 

it has a harsh or soft texture, whether it is highly finish- 
ed or rough and uneven ; but they bring me no intelli- 
gence of color. I may pronounce the goods beautiful, 
because I find in it certain qualities that address them- 
selves to my taste, but it is not beauty addressed to the 
eye. Light and color, to one who has never seen, is as 
inconceivable, as music to the deaf. V/e may get some 
faint idea of what light is as a medium of communica- 
tion, or why color pleases the eye, as qualities of texture 
please the touch ; but the conception is vague and un- 
satisfactory. 

I have often had the remark made to me, " Well, if 
you have never seen, it is not so bad after all; you have 
less desire to see." This I think is a mistake and a poor 
consolation. Has the man who has never visited the 
great Niagara cataract, but has many times heard and 
read of its wonders, less desire to see it than one who 
has witnessed those grand displays of God's power in 
the flood ? Has the boy who loves to read of travels 
and strange adventures less desire to see the glaciers of 
the Alps, the skies of Italy, or the jungles of Southern 
Africa, than the traveler who described them ? How- 
ever well we may see with our mental vision, however 
well suited to our taste may be our surroundings, how- 
ever pleasant may be our family relations, and however 



6S How do the Blind See ? 

kind may be our companions, we can not help that irre- 
pressible desire to know what there is about light and 
color, about the indescribable beauty of a sunset, the 
splendor of an evening sky, the glory of a cloudless day, 
and the awful grandeur of a storm. There is yet one 
thing we greatly desire to know, which the fingers can 
not grasp. We are told in poetry and romance that the 
human face divine is an index of the spirit. That its 
ever changing lines express every mood of the mind, 
and every emotion of the soul, from a smile of ineffable 
beauty to a midnight frown ; from the sunshine of hope, 
and joy, and gladness, to clouds of wrath and hatred. 
That the spirit looks out through the eye and melts you 
with a beam of tenderness, or pierces your heart with a 
flash of electric love, or charms you by revealing in its 
crystal depths the pearl of purity, or transfixes you with 
a glance of displeasure. Is all this talk about sunlit 
faces and starlit eyes, fine sentiment only, or does the 
face really express feeling as unmistakably as we hear it 
in voices ? To show that the deaf have as great a de- 
sire to hear the music of the human voice as we to see 
the language of the face, I quote from Dr Kitto the fol- 
lowing touching passage of personal history: 

** Is there anything on earth so engaging to a parent, 
as to catch the first lispings of his infant's tongue, or so 



Natural Desire to Hear. 69 

interesting as to listen to its dear prattle, and trace its 
gradual mastery of speech ? If there be any one thing 
arising out of my condition, which more than another 
fills my heart with grief, it is this: it is to see their 
blessed lips in motion, and to Jiear them not; and to 
witness others moved to smiles and kisses by the sweet 
peculiarities of infantile speech which are incommunica- 
ble to me, and which pass by me like the idle wind." 

Although there are but few experiences in common 
between the deaf and the blind, I am able to sympathize 
fully with this eminent deaf author, in the intense desire 
he felt to hear the sweet voices of his children. There 
is no other object this side of heaven I so ardently wish 
to see, as the faces of my family. A feeling sometimes 
comes over me, akin, I fancy, to the impotent rage of a 
caged lion, who vainly tries to break his prison bars and 
gain his liberty. The moral certainty that I must finally 
leave this world of beauty, without having enjoyed 
many of its highest blessings and purest delights, often 
so oppresses me that I can only find relief in prayer, for 
grace to say, " Thy will be done, O God." I hear the 
merry voices of my children, know their step, figure, 
contour of their heads and faces, and in my day-dreams 
I see them around me full of life and health, fun and 
frolic, and I know their little hearts are full of love for 



JO How do the Blind See? ' 

me ; I know, too, God has given them to me as some 
compensation for other blessings he has withheld. Let 
me trust then in his great mercy, that in the far future I 
may see the faces of my dear ones in the light of eter- 
nity ; of her who gave me birth, but whose fond look of 
affection and yearning tenderness, I was never able to 
return ; and the face of her who is now to me even more 
than a mother, who helps me to bear my many burdens 
with Christian patience and fidelity. Then if I am per- 
mitted to behold the glorified face of Him who hath re- 
deemed us, I shall rejoice that I have lived and suffered, 
and wept and prayed, that I might dwell with Him 
forever. 



GATHERING SHELLS. 

A HAPPY child roamed by the sea-side, 

Her hands full of beautiful shells; 
She had gathered them out of the blue tide, 

Where the spirit of mystery dwells. 
She laughed with the rippling waters, 

She danced on the pebbly shore, 
But vanished like all of Earth's daughters, — 

I never have seen her more. 

A youth, next to find ocean's treasures, 

Came wistfully wandering that way ; 
He knew not that Earth's fleeting pleasures 

Were born but to last for a day. 
He gathered bright shells and smooth pebbles, 

And many he purposed to keep. 
But soon found his treasures but troubles. 

And threw them all back in the deep. 



72 Gathering Shells. 

An aged man tottering and feeble, 

Came wearily next on the strand; 
He searched not for shells or smooth pebbles, 

But for jewels and gold in the sand. 
What he found must remain a sad mystery ; 

He carried no jewels away, — 
The ocean had closed his life's history, 

The tide gave him up the next day. 

We are gathering shells on the sea shore, 

On the boundless ocean of time; 
We hear the sad surf on the beach roar 

With warning prophetic, — sublime. 
We are gathering pearls for adorning. 

That sparkle but for a day ; 
That melt like the dews of the morning, — - 

We carry no jewels away. 

Are we gathering gems of true beauty, 

To ornament mind and soul? 
Are we gathering diamonds of duty 

To last while ages shall roll ? 
Are we gathering pearls for the Master 

Like the pearl of great price he paid ? 
The tide rises faster and faster, — 

Soon the treasures of earth shall fade. 



NIGHT THOUGHTS. 

It may not be a correct thing for me to say, but I 
shall say it nevertheless, that some of the brightest 
thoughts that illumine the pages of classic literature are 
emanations from minds entirely shut in from the light 
of day. You cannot imprison the active mind any more 
than you can extinguish an active volcano. It will find 
outlets in some direction. It is always pleasant and 
profitable to watch the growth and development of in- 
tellect under the most favorable circumstances ; but to 
study the manifestations of mind when some of its ave- 
nues of communication with the outer world are closed, 
is much more interesting and instructive. There is no 
condition of life so destitute of resources, that it may 
not be improved, and even made productive of positive 
blessings and comforts. 

The case of Laura Bridgman, the blind and deaf mute 
who is so justly celebrated for her wonderful achieve- 
ments under difficulties, shows that intellect will shine, 
though surrounded by impenetrable darkness ; that the 
soul may learn of God and heaven, though wrapped in 



74 Night Thoughts. 

unbroken silence ; that the Ijeart may be made to re- 
joice not only in the innocent pleasures of this life, but 
in the hope of a life to come, in a world of light and 
song, though it find this world a voiceless solitude. I 
may be pardoned, therefore, if I copy a few of the lead- 
ing incidents of the life of this wonderful woman. The 
public should not lose sight of a character so remarka- 
ble. Her memory should not be lost in the debris of 
time. Her name and achievements, with that of her 
noble teacher. Dr. Howe, and the process by which he 
educated her, should be handed down to the latest gen- 
eration. 

" Laura Bridgman was born at Hanover, in New 
Hampshire, in December, 1829. She is described as 
having been a very sprightly and pretty infant, with 
bright blue eyes. She was, however, so puny and fee- 
ble until she was a year and a half old, that her parents 
hardly hoped to rear her. She was subject to severe 
fits, which seemed to rack her frame almost beyond the 
power of endurance, and life appeared to be held by a 
very feeble tenure. But when a year and a half old her 
dangerous symptoms subsided ; and at twenty months 
old she was perfectly well. Then her mental powers, 
hitherto stinted in their growth, rapidly developed ; and 
during the four months of health which she enjoyed, she 



Laura Bridgman. 75 

appears to have displayed a considerable degree of in- 
telligence. But suddenly she sickened again. Her 
disease raged with great violence during five weeks, 
when her eyes and ears were inflamed, suppurated, and 
their contents were discharged. But although sight 
and hearing were thus gone forever, the poor child's 
sufferings were not yet ended. The fever raged during 
seven weeks. For five months she was kept in bed in a 
darkened room. It was a year before she could walk 
unsupported, and two years before she could sit up all 
day. It was then observed that her sense of smell was 
almost entirely destroyed, and subsequently, that her 
taste was much blunted. It was not until four years of 
age that the child's bodily health was restored, and she 
was able to enter upon the apprenticeship of life and the 
world. 

" * But what a situation w^as hers !' says Dr. Howe. 
' The darkness and silence of the tomb were around her : 
no mother's smile called forth her answering smile, no 
father's voice taught her to imitate his sounds : they, 
brothers and sisters were but forms of matter which 
resisted her touch, but which differed not from the fur- 
niture, save in warmth and in the power of locomotion ; 
and not even in these respects from the dog and the cat.' 

" But the immortal spirit which had been implanted 



^6 Night Thoughts. 

within her could not die, nor be maimed, nor mutilated ; 
and though most of its avenues of communication with 
the world were cut off, it began to manifest itself 
through the others. As soon as she could walk, she be- 
gan to explore the room, and then the house. She became 
familiar with the form, density, weight, and heat of every 
article she could lay her hands on. She followed her 
mother, and felt her hands and arms as she was occupied 
about the house; and her disposition to imitate led her 
to repeat everything herself She even learned to sew 
a little and to knit. 

" Dr. Howe was first made acquainted with the case of 
Laura in 1837, when she was nearly eight years of age. 
He found her with a well formed figure; a strongly-mark- 
ed nervous-sanguine temperament ; a large and beautiful- 
ly-shaped head; and the whole system in healthy action. 
The parents were easily prevailed upon to allow her to be 
placed in the Institution for the blind at Boston, to 
which she was taken in October of the same year. Here 
the process of her education was at once commenced. 
In this there was only one of two courses to be taken ; 
either to carry out and perfect the language of signs 
which she herself had already commenced, or to devise 
some means of imparting to her a knowledge of the 
alphabet in common use. Dr. Howe wisely. decided to 
try the latter. 



Method of Teaching. 77 

** The first experiments were made by taking articles 
with which she was familiar, such as knives, forks, 
spoons, keys, &c., and pasting upon them labels with 
their names printed in raised letters. These she felt 
carefully, and soon, of course, discovered that the 
crooked lines * spoon ' differed as much from the crooked 
lines * key ' as the spoon differed from the key in form. 

'' Then small detached labels, with the words printed 
on them were put into her hands; and she soon observ- 
ed that they were similar to those pasted upon the arti- 
cles. She showed her perception of this similarity by 
laying the label * key ' upon the key, and the label * spoon ' 
upon the spoon ; and she was encouraged to persevere 
in such discoveries by the natural sign of patting her 
head. The same process was then repeated with all the 
articles she could handle; and she very easily learned 
to put the proper labels upon them. It was evident, 
however, that the only intellectual exercise was that of 
imitation and memory. She recollected that the label 
'book' was placed upon a book, and she repeated the 
process first from imitation, next from memory, but 
apparently without any discovery of the relation between 
the name and thing. 

" After a while, instead of labels, the separate letters 
were given to her on detached bits of paper ; they were 



7^ Night Thoughts. 

arranged side by side, so as to spell book, key, &c. ; then 
they were mixed up in a heap and a sign was made for 
her to arrange them herself, so as to express the word 
book, key, &c., and she did so. 

" Up to this point the process had been merely me- 
chanical, not differing materially from that under w^hich 
a knowing dog may be taught a variety of tricks. The 
poor child had sat in mute amazement, and patiently 
imitated everything her teacher did. But now the truth 
began to flash upon her ; her intellect began to work ; 
she perceived that there was a way by which she could 
herself make up a sign of anything that was in her 
mind ; it was no longer a dog or a parrot ; it was an 
immortal spirit, eagerly seizing upon a new link of 
union with other spirits. 'I could almost fix upon the 
moment,' said her teacher, * when this truth dawned 
upon her mind, and spread its light to her countenance; 
I saw that the great obstacle was overcome ; and that 
henceforward nothing but patient and persevering, but 
plain and straightforward efforts were to be used.' 

" The result thus quickly related, was not obtained 
until some weeks of apparently unprofitable labor had 
been expended in following out the sound principle on 
which it was commenced. A set of metal types was 
procured, with the letters of the alphabet cast upon their 



Method of Teaching. 79 

ends; and also a board, provided with square holes in 
which she could set the types, so that the letters on 
their ends could alone be felt above the surface. By 
this means, when any article was presented to her, she 
could select the letters which formed its name, and 
arrange them on her board. 

"She was exercised for several weeks in this way, 
until her vocabulary became extensive; and then the 
important step was taken of teaching her how to repre- 
sent the different letters by the position of her fingers, 
instead of the cumbrous apparatus of the board and 
types. She accomplished her task speedily and easily, 
for her intellect had then begun to work in aid of her 
teacher, and her progress was rapid." 

The first report of her case, issued when she had been 
about three months under instruction, states that she 
had then just learned the manual alphabet as used by 
the deaf-mutes ; and that it was a subject of delight and 
wonder to see how rapidly, correctly, and eagerly she 
proceeded with her labors. The process is thus de- 
scribed : — " Her teacher gives her a new object, for 
instance a pencil, first lets her examine it, and get an 
idea of its use ; then teaches her how to spell it by 
making the signs for the letters with her own fingers : 
the child grasps her hand, and feels her fingers as the 



8o Night Thoughts. 

different letters are formed ; she turns her head a little 
on one side, like a person listening closely ; her lips are 
apart ; she seems scarcely to breathe, and her counte- 
nance, at first anxious, gradually changes to a smile, as 
she comprehends the lesson. She then holds up her 
tiny fingers, and spells the word in the manual alphabet; 
next, she takes her types and arranges her letters ; and 
last, to make sure that she is right, she takes the whole 
of the types composing the word, and places them upon, 
or in contact with, the pencil, or whatever the object 
may be." 

It may be doubted by some if the progress here de- 
scribed was possible in so short a time and in the face 
of such difficulties. But it should be remembered that 
Laura had little to distract her thoughts or attract her 
attention in other directions. Her intellect was new and 
bright, her memory retentive, and her fingers soft and 
delicate. The whole force of her mind was therefore 
concentrated upon the single object of learning this new 
method of communicating with the world about her. It 
must have all seemed very wonderful to her, and the 
friends who were thus trying to feed her hungry mind, 
were doubtless very dear to her. It is much to be 
regretted that she has never given her own account of 
her life and experiences. At the end of the succeeding 



La2ira Bridgman — Cheerfubiess. 8 1 

year another report was issued, which contains the fol- 
lowing passages : 

" It has been ascertained beyond the possibility of a 
doubt, that she cannot see a ray of light, cannot hear 
the least sound, and never exercises the sense of smell, 
if she have any. Thus her mind dwells in darkness and 
stillness, as profound as that of a closed tomb at mid- 
night. Of beautiful sights, and sweet sounds, and 
pleasant odors she has no conception ; yet she seems as 
happy and playful as a bird or a lamb ; and the employ- 
ment of her intellectual faculties, or the acquirement of 
a new idea, gives her a vivid pleasure, which is plainly 
marked on her expressive features. She never seems to 
repine, but has all the buoyancy and gaiety of child- 
hood. She is fond of fun and frolic ; and, when playing 
with the rest of the children, her shrill laugh sounds 
loudest of the group. 

" When left alone she seems very happy if she have 
her knitting or sewing, and will busy herself for hours : 
if she have no occupation, she evidently amuses herself 
by imaginary dialogues or by recalling past impressions ; 
she counts with her fingers, or spells out names of 
things which she has lately learned in the manual alpha- 
bet of the deaf-mutes. In this lonely self communion 
she seems to reason, reflect, and argue : if she spell a 



82 Night Thoughts. 

word wrong with her right hand, she instantly strikes it 
with her left, as her teacher does, in sign of disapproba- 
tion ; if right, then she pats herself upon the head and 
looks pleased. She sometimes purposely spells a word 
wrong with the left hand, looks roguish for a moment, 
laughs, and then with the right hand strikes the left as 
if to correct it. 

" During the year she has attained great dexterity in 
the use of the manual alphabet ; and she spells out words 
and sentences so fast and so deftly that only those ac- 
customed to this language can follow wJth the eye the 
rapid motion of the fingers. 

" But wonderful as is the rapidity with which she 
writes her thoughts upon the air, still more so is the 
ease and accuracy with which she reads the words thus 
written by others ; grasping their hands in hers, and fol- 
lowing every movement of their fingers as letter after 
letter conveys their meaning to her mind. It is in this 
way that she converses with her playmates, and nothing 
can more forcibly show the power of mind in forcing 
matter to its purpose, than a meeting between them. 

" When Laura is walking through a passage way 
with her hands spread before her, she knows instantly 
every one she meets, and passes them with a sign of 
recognition ; but if it be a girl of her own age, and 



Lau7'a Bndginait — Dreams of the Deaf, 83 

especially if it be one of her favorites, there is instantly 
a bright smile of recognition, and a twining of arms, a 
grasping of hands, and a swift telegraphing upon the 
tiny fingers, whose rapid evolutions convey the thoughts 
and feelings from the outposts of one mind to those of 
the other. There are questions and answers, exchanges 
oi joy or sorrow, there are kissings and partings, just as 
between little children with all their senses. 

" It is a curious fact, and one in a philosophical point 
of view most important, as displaying the natural ten- 
dency to make language the vehicle of thought, that 
when she supposes herself alone, she often soliloquizes 
in the finger language. It might at the first view appear 
doubtful whether she might not be repeating some les- 
son or exercise : but the fact that she thinks on her fingers 
is placed beyond question by the extraordinary circum- 
stance that she us^s the finger language in her dreams ; 
and it has been ascertained that when her slumber is 
broken and much disturbed by dreams, she expresses 
her thoughts in an irregular and confused' manner on 
her fingers, just as we should mutter and murmur them 
indistinctly in our dreams." 

After Laura had been eighteen months in the Institu- 
tion she was visited for the first time by her mother. 
The touching account of this meeting, as given in one 



84 Night Thoughts. 

of the Institution reports, I will here copy as it exhibits 
some interesting phases of Laura's character. 

" The mother stood some time gazing with overflow- 
ing eyes upon her unfortunate child, who, all uncon- 
scious of her presence, was playing about the room. 
Presently Laura ran against her, and at once began feel- 
ing of her hands, examining her dress, and trying to 
find out if she knew her ; but not succeeding in this, 
she turned away as from a stranger, and the poor wo- 
man could not conceal the pang she felt that her beloved 
child did not know her. 

** She then gave Laura a string of beads which she 
used to wear at home, which were recognized by her at 
once, who with much joy put them around her neck, 
and sought me eagerly to say she understood the string 
was from home. The mother now tried to caress her, 
but poor Laura repelled her, preferring to be with her 
acquaintances. Another article from home was now 
given her, and she began to look much interested ; she 
examined the stranger much more closely, and gave me 
to understand that she knew she came from Hanover ; 
she even endured her caresses, but would leave her with 
indifference at the slightest signal. The distress of the 
mother was now painful to behold ; for, although she 
feared she would not be recognized, the painful reality 



Visit of Laura s Mother. 85 

of being treated with cold indifference by a darb'ng child 
was too much for a woman's nature to bear. 

"After a while, on the mother taking hold of her 
again, a vague idea seemed to flit across Laura's mind, 
that this could not be a stranger ; she therefore felt her 
hands very eagerly, while her countenance assumed an 
expression of intense interest ; she became very pale, and 
then suddenly red ; hope seemed struggling with doubt 
and anxiety, and never were contending emotions more 
strongly depicted on the human face ; at this moment 
of painful uncertainty, the mother drew her close to her 
side, and kissed her fondly, when at once the truth 
flashed upon the child, and all mistrust and anxiety dis- 
appeared from her face, as with an expression of exceed- 
ing joy she eagerly nestled to the bosom of her parent, 
and yielded to her fond embraces. 

*' After this the beads were all unheeded ; the play- 
things which were offered her were utterly disregarded ; 
her playmates, for whom but a moment before she 
gladly left the stranger, now vainly strove to pull her 
from her mother; aud though she yielded her usual 
instantaneous obedience to any signal to follow me, it 
was evidently with painful reluctance. She clung close 
to me as if bewildered and fearful ; and when, after a 



86 Night Thoughts. 

moment, I took her to her mother, she sprang to her 
arms and clung to her with eager joy. 

" The subsequent parting between them showed alike 
the affection, the intelligence, and the resolution of the 
child. Laura accompanied her mother to the door, 
clinging close to her all the way, until they arrived at 
the threshold, where she paused, and felt around to 
ascertain who was near her. Perceiving the matron, of 
whom she is very fond, she grasped her with one hand, 
holding on convulsively to her mother with the other ; 
and thus she stood for a moment ; then she dropped her 
mother's hand, put her handkerchief to her eyes, and 
turning round, clung sobbing to the matron ; while her 
mother departed with emotions as deep as those of the 
child." 

From Laura's final recognition of her mother, some 
may infer that she retained some impressions of her 
babyhood, that some rays of light and echoes of sound 
may be still lingering in her mind. But in view of the 
statements made to me by many persons who lost their 
sight in early childhood, that no impressions of light 
and color remain in after years, I am forced to this con- 
clusion by the circumstance of Laura's meeting with 
her mother : that the pure sunlight which beamed in 
upon her infant soul, faded into midnight darkness, and 



Form Without Color. 87 

the sweet lullaby of her mother's voice no longer echoes 
in the chambers of her memory. 

The success that crowned the efforts thus made to 
cultivate a mind so completely shut in from all sur- 
rounding objects, demonstrates some of the propositions 
made at the commencement of this article, and shows 
that few minds are so hampered and imprisoned by im- 
perfect organism, that some thoughts of God and his 
beautiful creations may not reach them. By analyzing 
my own conceptions of the material world, I know that 
thoughts and ideas take form, if not color, in the mind 
of those who have never seen nor heard. I can think of 
a horse, dog, cat, or any animal which I have had the 
privilege of examining with my fingers, and — what will 
seem strange to my readers — I can think of them with- 
out color. That is, I can picture to my mind any object 
with which I am familiar, of the shape, size, texture, or 
any quality appreciable to the sense of touch, without 
giving the mental picture any color; and what has 
always been perfectly unaccountable to me is, these pic- 
tures seem to be printed on my eyelids rather than 
formed far back in the mind. This is not purely imag- 
inary as some may suppose. The brain has the power 
of locating impressions, and does so with unerring cer- 
tainty when the nerves are intact ; but if severed it still 



88 Night Thoughts. 

refers to their termination. If the stub of an amputated 
arm be pierced with a pin, the pain seems to be felt in 
the hand or fingers, just where the nerves had termin- 
ated before they were severed. I have often heard peo- 
ple who had lost a leg, complam of pain in their toes, 
or of an itching in the sole of their foot, and vainly tried 
to find relief from this disagreeable sensation by scratch- 
ing an artificial foot. The province of the eye is to see, 
and if it fail from any cause to perform its functions, 
the mind still refers to the retina as the location where 
images should be formed. It has no doubt been ob- 
served that blind persons always turn their faces toward 
any object toward which their attention is called. This 
is not from force of habit, — for those who have never 
seen do the same, — but because the mind refers to the 
eye for impressions. If there is no truth in this hypoth- 
esis then the fact above mentioned is still unaccountable. 
If I am told that a horse is black I at once associate 
with his figure some property of night, and if I am per- 
mitted to feel him, and find his coat smooth and glossy, 
my presumption is that it shines. I suppose this idea 
of shining 1 have received from a slight perception of 
light which I have always enjoyed. How any one who 
has always been surrounded by total darkness can get 
any impression of shining, or beaming, or shimmering, 



Form Without Color. , 89 

or sparkling, or scintillating, is more than I can com- 
prehend. If I am told that a horse is gray, there comes 
to my mind a vague impression of twilight, — half light 
and half darkness, or a mixture of white and black, and 
so on through all the shades of color. But in my ideal 
world these imaginary colors are secondary, and may 
be called up at will or banished at pleasure. 

If a rubber ball be placed in my hand, I at once rec- 
ognize its globular form, and call it a ball, but my mind 
does not necessarily endow it with color. I can think 
of it as black, or white, or red, or of its shape without 
color. This you who enjoy perfect sight cannot do. If 
my reader wishes to experiment upon this phase of 
mental philosophy, let him imagine a vase of flowers on 
a table before him. First, let him think of the porcelain 
vase with its smooth glassy surface and its rude repre- 
sentation of vines and leaves in green and gilt. Second, 
imagine in this vase a well arranged bouquet, with fine 
green leaves for a background, then delicate flowers of 
every shade from snowy white to darkest red. Now 
let him try to think of this thing of beauty without 
color ; of the vase with its smooth, polished surface, its 
graceful form, its vines and leaves; and then of the bou- 
quet, with its soft delicate leaves, its tuberoses, its gera- 
niums, verbenas, hyacinths, pansies, mignonette, forget- 



go Night Thoughts. 

me-nots, fuschias, carnations, &c., with a fragrance 
peculiar to each. This is the way fancy presents such 
an object to us who have never seen colors. How mea- 
gre then, you will say, must be the blind man's concep- 
tion of beauty. But you forget that the impressions 
he receives through his fingers, his smell, his taste, his 
hearing, &c., are greatly intensified. Therefore it would 
not be fair to infer that his natural descriptions of the 
beautiful are only imitations ; and that his language, 
often so well chosen and felicitous, is to him but a mu- 
sical cadence. 

I come now to speak of the dream-life or sleep of the 
blind. There is perhaps no essential difference between 
the slumbers of the blind and the seeing, except the 
workings of the mind, or the involuntary exercise of 
fantasy or imagination. The same comfortable feeling 
of drowsiness comes over us; sounds and objects seem 
to recede ; there is a confusion of ideas and images ; the 
eyelids droop, the powers of voluntary motion are sus- 
pended ; the avenues of sense are closed ; and sleep is 
profound, but not always dreamless. The living, think- 
ing principle is ever awake ; and although we are not 
always conscious of its operations, it is doubtless as 
busy when we are asleep, as when we are awake, in 
reproducing images, new combinations of thought, and 



Dreams of the Deaf and Blind, 91 

in echoing voices and sounds long since forgotten. 
This wakeful, thinking power cannot, however, be the 
immortal principle or spirit of man, for the lower ani- 
mals seem to dream. 

Sleep is at all times mysterious and awe-inspiring. It 
is the nearest approach to death of any healthful condi- 
tion ; but it is doubtless nature's opportunity for replen- 
ishing exhausted energies. I never hear the slow, reg- 
ular respirations of a sleeping enemy without feeling 
ready to forgive all past offenses unless he snore, then 
my animosity returns. 

How little different must have been the real life from 
the dream life of Laura Bridgman. But one avenue of 
sense to be closed, the bodily powers suspended, and 
she is asleep. And what may we suppose her dreams 
to be ? Very much like her thoughts and imaginations 
while awake. She thinks of her companions and 
friends, of congratulations or reproofs, of receiving and 
communicating thoughts and ideas through finger signs, 
of tender and loving embraces, of joyful meetings, sor- 
rowful partings, and in short all her little routine of 
daily duties. To her, day and night, sleeping and wak- 
ing, would be all the same, were it not for the warm 
sunshine of the day, and the cool damp air at night ; 
were it not that the mind, when the faculties are awake 



92 Nig Jit Thoughts. 

is able to measure time ; that food is supplied through 
the day and not at night ; that the hands in coming in 
contact with familiar objects, assure the mind that the 
body is awake, and in possession of its powers of mo- 
tion ; were it not that the heart is assured by expres- 
sions of love and sympathy, that life is real. 

We who find all our organs of sense in a state of 
perfection except that of sight, experience greater dif- 
ferences between day and night, sleeping and waking. 
Noises help greatly to assure the mind that the faculties 
are awake. The dreams of persons born without sight, 
differ essentially from the dreams of those who have 
once seen, in this particular: we who have never seen 
colors never dream of them ; nor of faces, nor of any 
object at a distance as it appears to the eye. We dream 
of touching or handling familiar objects, of hearing the 
voices of friends, and other familiar sounds; of music, 
of the noise of passing carriages, of footsteps, and of all 
the sounds by which we are guided when awake. 

It has been said by some writers on mental philoso- 
phy, that sounds are never heard in dreams; but this is 
not true. I frequently dream of music when no sounds 
disturb the stillness of the night, and I often dream of 
meeting with friends of long ago, of hearing their 
voices, of talking with them, and of being introduced to 



Sleep and Dreams. 93 

ladies and gentlemen with whom I have never met. 
Having myself a faint perception of light, my days 
are not dark, neither are my dreams. At times they are 
very vivid and distinct. Those of our class who have 
lost their sight late in life live it over again in their 
dreams. Memory calls up scenes and pictures of the 
past; but what seems sad to record is that these scenes 
and images, at first so bright, so real and so life-like, 
gradually fade and after a few years become dim and 
confused. I have a blind friend, with whom I am very 
intimate, who lost his sight about thirty years ago. I 
have frequently questioned him upon this subject. He 
says his dreams were at first very natural and that soon 
after losing his sight he enjoyed himself much better 
asleep than awake. He could then see the faces of old 
familiar friends and w^alk in dreamland without a guide, 
fearing no lamp-posts or open cellar- ways. Of late he 
says his dreams are mixed and confused. Fantasy 
seems more inclined to reproduce the experiences of 
the present. If his work through the day has been 
repairing his buildings or his fences, the work goes on 
in his dreams, but he does not see the material he is 
using. He feels for his hammer, boards and nails as 
when awake. 

I regret that the deaf are not more communicative 



94 Night Thoughts, 

about their own thoughts and feelings. That they do 
not write more and give us clearer gHmpses of their 
inner life and spiritual condition, and what their intui- 
tions are of life beyond the boundaries of time and sense. 
What do they think of sound ? Do colors give them 
some faint conception of what sounds must be ? Do 
they think a sweet sound is like a soft color, a loud 
sound like a harsh color, a brilliant sound like a brill- 
iant color, and a low, grave sound, like a dark or som- 
ber color ? What do they think of voices ? Do they 
think a white man's voice is white, and a black man's 
voice black? That the bark of a yellow dog must be 
yellow, and the song of a red bird, red ? That the voices 
of the sea and sky are blue, and that the moon and stars 
fill the heavens with their sweet melodies, as they make 
night glorious with their shining lights? This, I may 
be told, is only idle speculation, — that the deaf are not 
so visionary, — that their thoughts are more practical. 
Well, let them write more, and tell us what they think. 
Reticence is not excusable even in the deaf Surely, 
the unbroken silence that ingulfs them is as favorable to 
cogitation, as the darkness that surrounds us is for 
reflection. "The proper study of mankind is man," 
says Pope. Surely, there can not be a more interesting 



What do the Deaf think of Sounds. 95 

study, than the development of the powers of body and 
mind under difficulties. 

If the few facts and suggestions I have here presented 
shall start in the mind of any of my readers trains of 
profitable reflection, — if they prove instrumental in lead- 
ing any one to a closer investigation of the laws which 
govern mind, — if they show that there are but few con- 
ditions of life without hope, — if they teach cheerfulness 
/and submission to those who are inclined to quarrel 
with providence, — finally, if they help the world in any^ 
way, I shall feel rewarded for this effort ; and I trust 
that my thoughts in the night will not be lost in the 
darkness. 



THE DESERTED CHAPEL. 

In the old deserted chapel on the Square, 

Where the spirits of the past in silence brooded, 
When no sacrilegious sound disturbed the air, 

And no burst of boisterous noise the ear intruded ; 
In the old deserted church I sat alone, 

Sadly thinking of the friends of long ago ; 
Thinking mournfully of spirits who had flown. 

And left me still a wanderer here below. 

Gloomily I pondered over many years. 

Thought of wasted energies, and misspent time, 
How with stirring eloquence, and prayers, and tears. 

Holy men had here proclaimed the truth sublime. 
Even now I seemed to hear them, — faint at first, 

Like the echoes of sweet music, soft and low, 
Footsteps round the empty altar as of erst, 

Spirits with familiar voices come and go. 



TJie Deserted Chapel. 97 

Hark ! they sing in ancient measure, hymns of old ; 

" Come ye sinners poor and needy, doubt no more ; 
He hath mercy, He hath pity, — love untold; 

From His heart there flows abundant, boundless love." 
Now around the altar kneeling, lo ! they bow, 

Praying, wrestling for a blessing. Will it come ? 
Tears of penitential sorrow, how they flow ! 

Mercy hears, and stoops to answer from her home. 

Every bleeding heart is healed with heavenly balm, 

Every guilty soul is cleansed with Jesus's blood, 
Every breast from passion's tumult now is calm, 

And each grateful tongue is singing praise to God. 
Now with snowy hands they beckon to the throng ; 

'• Come ye sinners poor and needy, doubt no more," 
Up the aisles with solemn tread they move along. 

And around the altar bow, as those before. 

Gradually the vision vanished. All was still. 

In the old deserted church I sat alone. 
On the buried past and present pondered, till 

I wished me with the spirits that had flown. 



BEAUTIFUL CHILDREN. 

Who does not love the beautiful children, 
So bright and so brisk, so merry and free? 

That heart must be calloused that cannot receive them, 
With all their sweet ways and innocent glee. 

So fresh from the hand of the merciful Maker, 
That one almost feels that a message they bring, 

That still on their tongues divine accents linger. 
Sweet wordlings of praise to the heavenly King. 

Christ said as he blessed them, of such is the kingdom, 
Forbid not the children to come unto me ; 

His heart though a God's, felt a sympathy for them, 
He loved the dear children; and so. shall not we? 

In our hearts and our homes let us cherish these treas- 
ures, 

And guard their young lives from temptation and sin; 
Let us practice before them the virtues and graces, 

And thus here on earth shall our heaven begin. 



LITTLE HANDS AND FEET 

Busy little baby feet ! 

All day long I hear your patter ; 
Tireless tongues ! with nonsense sweet, 

Still I hear your ceaseless chatter. 
What but muscle, flesh and bone, 

Could endure such wasteful wearing? 
Yet how silently goes on 

Nature's process of repairing. 



Restless little hands and feet ! 

Never idle, never weary ; 
Ever supple, deft and fleet, 

Always fresh, and blithe, and cheery. 
What is home without a baby } 

Like a day without a sun : 
Light enough to toil, it may be. 

But dreary when the toil is done. 



iOO Little Hands and Feet. 

Sad the man whose home rejoices 

Not in one sweet childish face ; 
Whose halls resound not with the voices 

Of innocence and youthful grace. 
Sad the wife whose love is linked not 

With the heart by time estranged, 
But the cruel cause she thinks not, 

Why his love for her is changed. 

When shall earth become an Eden 

Like the Paradise once lost? 
When each mother's life is laden 

With the cares she counts not cost; 
When each father feels a pleasure 

In the work of love bestowed, 
To fit each little darling treasure, 

For the heritage of God. 



THE TURKEY. 

Inscribed to C. R. Kern, Esq., Thanksgiving Day, 187i 

Once upon a morning cheery, 
While I sat all grim and teary, 
Wondering what my frugal deary 
Should cook for our Thanksgiving dinner ; 
While I dwelt on thoughts most shocking, 
And drew on our baby's stocking, 
Suddenly there came a knocking. 
Knocking at our frontal door. 
** 'Tis a boy," said I, " the sinner, 
Knocking at our frontal door, 
With a dun, and nothing more." 

Ah ! distinctly I remember, 

'Twas on the thirtieth of November, 

A day when every glowing ember 

Should roast a goose if nothing more. 

But a sad, uncertain feeling 

As to Providential dealing. 

Chilled me with the thought of stealing 

Something for our scanty store, 

When again I heard the knocking; 

" Wife," said I, " undo the locking. 

And open wide our frontal door." 



102 The Turkey. 

Sure enough, there stood a clerky, 

With his face all smiles and smirky, 

Holding in his hand a turkey 

Fresh from some one's bounteous store. 

"Bird of Paradise!" (I meant it,) 

" Heaven bestows though you present it ! 

Tell me! what kind friend hath sent it?" 

" Kern," he said, and nothing more. 

This one word he spoke and vanished ; 

And the hungry wolf was banished. 

Banished from our frontal door. 

And that turkey ever flitting, 
Never sitting, still is flitting, 
Watching for a comrade fitting, 
Ready for our Christmas store, 
And the wolf looks out, it may be, 
Hungry for a dimpled baby. 
Drawing nearer, nearer, may be, 
Ready for a savage roar. 
And my heart, among the playthings 
That lie rolling on the floor, 
Hopes and struggles evermore. 



PIGS IN THE PULPIT. 

In a small country town from this city not far, 

The church door one night was left standing ajar; 

When what was the people's surprise, the next day, 

On entering the chapel to sing and to pray. 

To find in the pulpit, asleep on the floor, 

Three vagabond porkers, — there might have been more. 

And doubtless there had been, if mud is a test 

Of the place where tramps have been taking their rest. 

As the worshippers entered, the sexton prepared 

To open the windows and have the thing aired ; 

But seeing the porkers asleep on the floor, 

He determined to turn out the devils before 

The parson should enter, and see how bestained 

With mud and with filth, was his pulpit profaned. 

With sa.^h-rod in hand, he with vigor began 

To stir up the brutes, who immediately ran, 

And squealed as they ran out of pew into pew. 

While the children all laughed, and the women squealed 

too. 
The men soon discovered that pigs on the race 
Were too much for the sexton, so they joined the chase. 
And then, what a squealing and racing and kicking: 
You'd have thought forty schoolboys were taking a 

licking, 
But some way, the pigs couldn't see their way out ; 
They tumbled and jumbled and scurried about, 



I04 Pig^ ^'^ iJ"^^ Pulpit. 

Now hither, now thither, then up the long aisles, 

Now backward, now forward, and many the trials 

The men made to head them, and drive them before, 

And hurry them out of the broad open door. 

But pigs have a nature like false pride and sin ; 

They rarely go out the same way they came in. 

At length, a bright thought struck the deacon in season ; 

He did not take time to reflect or to reason, 

But raised a loose board in the floor — the thing needed — 

When out popped the pigs, and the meeting proceeded. 

LESSON. 

Secure your church door against tramps of all ermine ; 

Be wise and content with your pastor's own sermon ; 

Leave not the straight gate of your pulpit ajar ; 

If strangers apply, find out first who they are. 

Remember the pigs and their Sabbath day rout ; 

If the devil gets in, he is hard to get out. 

If you have a dull preacher, why try to endure him ; 

If a better one come, some will try to secure him ; 

If a poorer one prate, you will feel yourselves bored. 

Grow weary and drowsy, and faint, in the Lord. 

Very much that we prize in our homes and our nation 

Is loved and made sacred by association ; 

If we open our churches on every occasion, 

We no longer persuade, but are dupes of persuasion. 



DANGERS OF COURTSHIP. 

A CRICKET hopped ki at the open door, 

And found in the wainscot a chink ; 
A mouse tripped out on the oaken floor, 

And sat in the corner to think. 
The cricket believing herself alone, 

Tuned up her lyre to sing. 
And then she chirped in her rasping tone, 

" Oh ! give to my lover a wing." 
The mouse was charmed with her amorous song. 

And so enchanted was he, 
That he crept from his hiding place along, 

And gallantly fell on his knee. 
'' Miss Cricket," he said, " I admire you much, 

And fain would make you my wife." 
Just then he fell into an enemy's clutch. 

Who snapped the thread of his life. 
Old Puss lay crouched on his tufted rug. 

And saw with flaming eyes 
The mouse make love to the bashful bug, 

And quickly secured his prize. 

MORAL. 

Young maidens beware how you hop about ; 

And boys stop a moment to think. 
The young lady's pa may be looking out. 

And snap you as quick as a wink. 



''BEAUTIFUL SNOW." 

Oh the snow, the beautiful snow ; 

It flies in your eyes when the cold breezes blow, 

It piles in the aisles, along grocery row, 

And loads up the roads so the cartmen can't go ; 

Oh the snow, the redundant snow. 

It packs in the tracks and delays all the trains. 
It hills up and fills up the alleys and lanes. 
It heaps and it sweeps o'er the stubbly plains. 
It sprinkles and tinkles the window panes; 
Oh the snow, the musical snow. 

It drifts through the rifts and the cracks in your doors, 
It banks on the planks of your sidewalks and floors, 
It shakes and it breaks down the awnings of stores, 
It rollicks and frolics, it rattles and roars ; 
Oh the snow, the exulting snow. 

If your roof is bomb-proof it may bear the load ; 

If Brown gets to town he must shovel the road ; 

You must scoop from your stoop wdiat last night it 

snowed, 
Or you're plugged in your jug as tight as a toad ; 
Oh the snow, the abundant snow. 



" Beautiful Snow. " 1 07 

Go out, walk about in the streets if you dare, 
It trips on your lips, and sifts through your hair, 
It darts till it smarts every cheek that is bare, 
And congeals on your heels as you step, so beware! 
Or down you go in the treacherous snow. 

Of course, if your horse is uncommonly kind, 

A rift through the drift he may possibly find ; 

But he rears up before and kicks up behind, 

Till your load from the road to the ditch is consigned, 

And over you go in the beautiful snow. 

Pretty girls with their curls are there all in a heap, 
Shouting boys with their noise from their snow caverns 

creep, 
Laughing eyes with surprise from the window panes 

peep, 
And you say as your sleigh slides over the steep. 
Confound the snow! we've got too much snow. 

Then hurrah for a thaw when young April looks in. 
When rills from the hills with spring showers begin. 
And the ice that now lies on the rivers grows thin, 
And quakes as it breaks with a horrible din ; 
Then away must go our beautiful snow. 



MISERABLE MUD. 

All the forces of nature are prone to extremes ; 

When 'tis dry then 'tis parched, when it rains then it 
streams ; 

When it snows then it piles, when it thaws there's a 
flood, 

And the world is engulfed in a deluge of mud. 

Oh the mud, the miserable mud ! 

It lies on the crossing, it floats in the street, 

It spreads on the sidewalk, it sticks to your feet; 

It flows through the gutter, the ditch and the sewer, 

And bespatters alike the rich and the poor. 

Oh the mud, the impartial mud ! 

It makes no distinction 'twixt broadcloth and shoddy, 

'Twixt doeskin and fustian, it daubs everybody ; 

'Tis spattered by horses, it flies from the wheels. 

Till you're plastered with mud from your head to your 
heels. 

Oh the mud, the invincible mud! 



Miserable Mud. 109 

By and by when 'tis dry, when you're roasted and fried, 
When the ground thirsts for water but rain is denied, 
With mercury at ninety and still on the rise, 
With dust on your beaver and dust in your eyes, 
Oh then you'll sigh for th' cool, plastic mud. 

Alas ! how we pas-s from the good to the bad ; 

'Tis strange how we change from the joyous to sad; 

He is wise who can prize the joys of to-day, 

And trusting the morrow be willing to say — 

We thank Thee, good Lord, for rain, snow or mud. 



MISS SUE PRE ME SELFISH AT HOME. 

Miss Selfish sat in her easy chair, 

Her lap-dog lay on the tufted rug ; 
She watched the world with a listless air, 

And sipped sangaree from a silver mug. 

She glanced at her face in a fine French plate 
That hung o'er the marble mantle tree, 

And wondered what kept her lover so late; 
" He's a laggard in love, I fear," said she. 



1 10 Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 

*' ' His mother,' he says, * claims much of his care:' 
Bah ! that is all stuff, but sounds very fine ; 

Then a pet of a sister comes in for a share 

Of a heart that he promised should all be mine. 

*' I'll taunt him to night with his cruel neglect, 
His double devotion and service slipshod ; 

But then he'll reply with his cant, I suspect, 
That duty to parents is honor to God. 

" Fie ! duty to sweetheart is my religion. 

Submission to wives should be first in the code, 

Saint Paul's stale opinions need some revision, 
His doctrine on marriage must soon explode. 

" Most men are captious, fickle and vain, 

They flirt and they flatter, they fawn and caress, 

They are addicted to habits intemperate, profane. 
Ever fond of display, fine horses, and dress. 

" We women are watchful, and wise in the main. 
We are faithful, forgiving, forbearing and kind, 

Frail physical forces we balance with brain, 

And what's lacking in muscle we make up in mind. 



Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 1 1 1 

Just then a waiting-maid came to present 

The name of a lady — " Home Missions," she thought; 
" Go tell her I'm out," said Miss Selfish, " I'm bent 

That for this time, at least, I shall not be caught. 

" For heathen and paupers, new churches and schools 
Not a single day passes without some appeal ; 

Asylums for soldiers, inebriates and fools ; 

The world has gone mad with a misguided zeal. . 

"Of what use are your churches? hypocrisy rules; 

Why lavish such wealth on the ignorant and poor, 
Why build your asylums and charity schools ? 

The world would be better without them, I'm sure." 



Once more her waiting-maid came to report ; 

A beggar was asking for clothing and meat ; 
" Go send him away," was her answer in short, 

" Stay, bring me some bits for my poodle to eat. 

" Our city is filled with these tireless tramps, 
Who beg their living from door to door, 

They are all such pilfering, plundering scamps, 
That it's nobody's duty to feed them, I'm sure." 



1 1 2 Miss Supreme Selfish at Home. 

" He is young, ma'am, and fair," said the maid with a 
blush, 

" Is willing to work but finds nothing to do." 
Her mistress replied with an angry flush. 

" Pray send him away, what is that to you ?" 

" With a family of children," entreated the maid, 

" An invalid wife on her scanty bed, 
No fuel to warm, — with her rent unpaid, 

And four famished little ones crying for bread." 

" You'll do for a preacher," said Miss Sue Preme, 
" Here's a dime to reward your importunate plea, 

Go give it the man, if so much you deem 
Him worthy of aid; but for you, not me. 

" I always take pleasure in helping the worthy, 

I made our rector a large donation, 
I always favor the few who serve me, 

Who try to maintain a respectable station." 

Still once more enters the waiting-maid, 

With an open note on a silver tray ; 
'' The thanks of the mendicant, madam," she said, 

" I gave him the trifle and sent him away." 



Miss Sue Preme Selfish at Home. 1 1 3 

" Great heavens ! girl, pray what is this? 

The name of Bernard, O ! what have I done ? 
A plot to rob me of earthly bliss, 

Of a prize that I thought so nearly won. 

" I'm overreached, I'm sold, betrayed 

By one who enjoyed my confidence. 
My love is exchanged for a waiting-maid, 

My hate, my anguish is most intense." 

SHE READS. 

" Charming Sue Preme, 

For such I must ever deem 

You, beautiful as heartless, — fair as cold. 

Thanks for the dime. 

It saved me from the crime, 

The crime of selling hope of heaven for gold. 

And though I wed 

Your waiting-maid instead, 

I've figured up the profit, counted the cost; 

In her I find 

A most congenial mind, 

A treasure richer than the one I lost. 

False one, adieu ! 

Heap your favors on the few ; 

Lavish your treasures on the worldly proud ; 

But close not your door 

To the pinched and hungry poor ; 

An angel may be standing in the crouching crowd." 



CELESTIA CHARITY AT HOME. 

Miss Charity sat in her sewing chair, 
Her work-box stood on a stand hard by; 

She was making a shroud for a millionaire, 
Gone up to possess his treasures on high. 

She saw not her face in the plain gilt glass 
That hung o'er the oaken mantle-tree, 

Reflecting clearly each modest grace, — 

For flattering friends ? No ! for angels to see. 

And thus she wrought at her toilsome task. 

From early morning till set of sun; 
And repined at her lowly lot, do you ask ? 

'Twas a labor of love, and most cheerfully done. 

Her supple fingers were seldom idle, 

Her busy brain was rarely at rest. 
Her flow of spirits, even, not tidal. 

She trusted in Providence and was blest. 



Miss Celestia Charity at Home, 1 1 5 

True, solemn thoughts her work suggested, 

But her mind was cheerful and her work was light ; 

Sweet birds among the branches rested, 
The sky was fair and the flowers bright. 

'Twas a country house, quite humble but sweet. 

Selected to suit her lowly station ; 
A purring cat lay at her feet, 

Dreaming, no doubt, of a rat-ification. 

No street organ came to torture the soul 

With the tune of John Brown, or Yankee Doodle ; 

No troublesome tramp or gypsy stroll 
Frightened the cat or worried the poodle. 

'Twas just the place for sonneteer, 

A paradise for a sanctum scribbler; 
No discords to vex, no callers to fear, 

No smiles to waste on a jesting ribbler. 

And well Miss Charity loved her home. 

Contented and happy she spent her days; 
There no contention nor care could come, 

But innocent mirth and Godly praise. 



1 1 6 Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 

She believed in prayer and honest labor, 

In faith and zealous works combined ; 
She loved her Lord and trusted her neighbor, 

And with useful books improved her mind. 

The sun streamed in at the western door, 

And still her weary work went on ; 
The moon lay white on the ashen floor, 

But the burial robe was not yet done. 

So she sang and stitched, and stitched and sang, 
Till the stars peeped out from their hiding places, 

And the night-bird's notes through the orchard rang, 
Till the blossoms hid their frightened faces. 

The crickets chirped in the scented grass, 

The owlet quarreled with the katydid, 
The light wind through the leaflets passed, 

To find where the sweetest flowers were hid. 

A neighbor called for a pleasant chat ; 

Twas John, a well-to-do farmer's son. 
Miss Charity rose and took his hat, 

Gave him a seat, and the work went on. 



Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 1 1 7 

He talked of his crops and the price of grains ; 

How corn had gone up and rye had gone down ; 
He spoke of his hopes, of his prosperous gains, — 

Was silent, — and still the stitching went on. 

" I have purchased," said he, " the Macklebe farm, 
Adjoining my father's place on the west; 

The buildings are new, the cottage is warm, 
The soil is the richest and very best" 

" Now I need me a wife," said farmer John, 
" A wife who is frugal, faithful and true, 

A love to encourage and help me on 

Through life, so darling, I've come for you." 

She did not look at her lover's face. 

Nor the blushing glass o'er the mantle-tree. 

But answered with mild, becoming grace : 
*' So, farmer John, thee has come for me. 

" Thee says thee has purchased many fair acres, 
And now, thee needs a wife, did thee say ? 

And thee has come for a plain little Quakeress ; 
Why, John, I should give them all away. 



1 1 8 Miss Celestia Charity at Home. 

" I'll marry thee, though, on one condition, 
That half which those broad acres afford, 

Shall be set apart with thy permission 

And freely given to the work of the Lord." 

** Nay, not so much," said the wary farmer, 
" But the tenth of all the land produces 

I will place in the hands of my little charmer, 
To feed the poor, and for Christian uses." 

*' Not so, not so," the maiden replied, 
" I will not let thee cheat the Lord ; 

When Ananias and Sapphira lied, 

Swift judgment was their dire reward." 

" 1 yield, I yield, be it as you say ; 

I would not lose thee for earth and heaven ; 
So have your will, and have your way, 

All that you ask shall be freely given." 

*' Enough," she said, " I ask no more," 
And love lit up her queenly brow: 

The stars peeped in at the open door, 
To see them seal their plighted vow. 



PAT AND THE FROGS. 

A KNIGHT of the spade and a gin graduator, 

Having taken one night too much of the crayther, 

Went staggering home by a roundabout way, 

And crossing a field where a quagmire lay, 

With shillaly in hand he went blundering on, 

Till he brought up at last at the edge of a pond. 

" Holy mither! what's this?" said our knight of the spade; 

*' Had I betther go round or thry for to wade ? " 

" You'd better go round," said a guttural voice. 

" Hold yer tongue, ye spalpeen, who axed your advice ?" 

" Go round, sir, go round," said a voice to the right. 

" Come on, thin, ye haythens, I'm ready to fight," 

" You'd better go round," said a voice at the left. 

** Hould yer gab, or bedad !" — and the night air he cleft. 

" Here's a row, here's a row," came in guttural tone. 

" Show yer head, and be jabers, I'll break ivery bone." 

*' Knock him down, knock him down," cried a voice in 

the rear. 
But just then there fell on his wondering ear, 



I20 Pat ajid the Frogs. 

Such a chorus of voices, that Pat stood amazed, 
And dropped the shillaly that he held upraised. 
Like the notes of a bagpipe, so shrill and so clear, 
Came sounds from the swamp with these words to his ear : 



SONG OF THE PEEPERS. 

" Pete, Pete, put in your feet ! 
Never retreat until you are beat. 
Sweet, meat, something to eat, 
Somebody's feet are in the peet. 

" Peep ! leap ! it's not very steep, 

Down in the deep where we peepers keep. 

Peep ! leap ! all in a heap, 

But never asleep where the leeches creep ! " 

"Are ye fairies?" said Pat, "who are spakin' so sweet? 

Come over to Tim's and begorra it's my treat ; 

Or if ye are humans, and mean to be civil, 

Come out till we 'spake, or it's go to the divil ; 

But if robbers ye are, and a murthering crew. 

Then we'll thry what an Irish shillaly can do." 

" Hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo, hoo," came a voice from the trees, 

And Paddy jumped in fully up to his knees. 



Pat and the Frogs. 1 2 1 

" So it's laughin' you'd be, you dirty blackguard, 

Come out till ye thry if me stick is not hard." 

So he struck to the left, and he struck to the right, 

Till the owl from the trees flew away in affright. 

He slashed and he splashed with such hearty good will, 

That soon every peeper and croaker was still. 

But being top-heavy with whiskey and gin, 

His foot gave a slide and he tumbled right in. 

He lunged and he plunged, he floundered and swore, 

Till his brogans walked out on the opposite shore. 

The leeches peeped out from their holes in the mud. 

And begged for a banquet of pure Irish blood. 

He was thoroughly soaked both outside and in; 

With water outside, and inside with gin. 

On taking an invoice, he found that poor Pat 

Was out a shillaly, and minus a hat. 

Exhausted and sobered, he sat down to think 

How the drink in his head got his head in the drink. 

What a brute he had been, what a life he had led ; 

How his children were naked and crying for bread ; 

How his poor, patient Biddy had borne his abuse. 

And tried to reform him but found 'twas no use ; 

How she'd waited and watched through the long weary 

nights, 
While he was awa}^ in the brothels and fights ; 



122 Pat and the Frogs. 

How often she'd found him all bleeding and bruised, 

Had bound up his wounds, and his errors excused. 

For some time he sat thus sad and dejected, 

And on his past life and misdeeds reflected. 

At length, he looked up at the stars overhead, 

And thus to the Spirit that rules them he said : 

" Great Spirit, if through those swate eyes ye can see, 

In pity look down on a sinner like me. 

And if ye have ears, and can hear what I spake, 

Please write down the promise I'm going to make. 

So long as my name is Patrick O'Flynn, 

I'll drink no more brandy, nor whiskey, nor gin, 

I'll be sober, industrious, and truthful, and stiddy, 

And never will bate nor abuse my poor Biddy," 

How Pat kept his promise, the sequel will show. 

He is sober, industrious, and none that we know 

Has a happier face, or a pleasanter cot ; 

But his fight with the frogs he has never forgot. 

And now, he is old and can't work any more, 

He sits on a bench by his own cottage door, 

And tells where the barley and corn shall be grown, 

On the fine, fertile farm that is now all his own. 

He brings from his garden the mercer and rose, 

And the finest of fruit to his neighbor he shows. 



Pat and the Frogs. 1 23 

He knows which potato is Biddy's delight, 
And they often talk o'er the events of that night, 
Of his fight with the frogs, of his bath in the slough, 
How the stars and the angels recorded the vow, -^ 

How whiskey had made him a beggar and beast, 
But temperance had crowned him a king and a priest. 
And now, when the Master says, "Pat, come up hither," 
He hopes he and Biddy may travel together. 



THE HOLE IN THE GATE, 

We had a little pig, and he wasn't very big, 

He had a peaked nose and curly pate ; 
When he slipped through a crack you couldn't drive 
him back, 

For he couldn't see the hole in the gate. 

He would raise his furtive eye to an object in the sky, 

And run for the entrance very straight, 
Then he'd slip along the fence with a squealing most 
intense. 

For he couldn't find the hole in the gate. 



124 ^'^^^ //<3/^ in the Gate. 

When once he had a bite of the melons out of sight. 

It didn't take him long to find the bait, 
And you couldn't drive him out, with his ugly peaked 
snout, 

For he couldn't see the hole in the gate. 

And we have heard of men who were larger pigs, and 
then, 

When they had got inside the crib of state, 
You couldn't drive them out with ballot, threat nor gout, 

For they couldn't see the hole in the gate. 

Most men in this respect, (though I'm sorry to reflect 
On the honors and the virtues of the great,) 

Have the nature of the swine,— they can see the guineas 
shine, 
But they can't see the hole in the gate. 

CHORUS. 

So there is no use for any one to wait. 

The rats have overrun the crib of state, 
When once you're fairly in, to steal is not a sin ; 

For money hides the hole in the gate. 



CHRONIC GRUMBLER. 

We have read of hypochondriacs, 
Somnambulists and catalepsy, 

But of all the marvelous mind attacks, 
The direst is brain dyspepsia. 

Its symptoms multiform, are legion, 

And difficult of diagnosis ; 
Sometimes a mania on religion, 

Next bordering on metempsychosis. 

But the saddest form physicians find, 
Is somewhat like a colic rumbling ; 

An aberration of the mind 

Called morbia, or chronic grumbling. 

As when the gastric organs gig 
And fail to do their chymal duty, 

Just so the mind gets out of rig. 
And sees deformity in beauty. 



126 Chronic Gnunbler. 

As through a green glass all looks green, 
So by disease is man afflicted ; 

He sees in earth's sublimest scenes, 
His own deformity depicted. 

The sun puts on a sickly glare, 

The moon looks through a dismal halo, 
The stars gleam with portentous stare, 

The ruddiest face looks dark and sallow. 



His social sky is overcast, 

His friends are false, his neighbors slight him, 
The reason he has found at last ; 

He's poor and so they don't invite him. 

" The moral world is going to wreck, — 
How crime of every kind increases ; 

Some power this tendency must check, 
Or heaven and earth will go to pieces. 

" But the meanest man in all the land, 
Is the shrewd conniving politician ; 

A. whiskey bribe is in one hand, 
And in the other a fat commission. 



Chronic Grumbler. 127 

" Re buys and sells the freeman's vote, 

And worms his way to an honored station ; 

He watches the wind and turns his coat, — 
By craft and fraud he rules the nation. 

" He reaches the presidential chair, 

And soon he gains a fortune ; no wonder! 

For thieves are here and knaves are there, 
All grabbing for the public plunder. 

** The public lands are given away, 

Money is squandered on corporations, 

Government officers double their pay, 
To ape in extravagance foreign nations. 

'* So taxes are up and grains are down, 

The rich are made richer, the poor made humbler, 
Business is stopped in city and town ;" 

And thus croaks on our chronic grumbler. 

" The churches too are growing proud, 

Too much is spent i^ ornamenting, 
Some brother shouts or prays too loud, 

Seats should be free," — he's opposed to renting. 



128 Chronic Grumbler. 

" Religion goes out as pride comes in, 
The people spend too much in dressing ; 

Church gambling is a heinous sin, 
It never can receive God's blessing. 

" The world is sadly out of joint, 
He hears a low prophetic rumbling, 

The end is near, he sees the point," 

And thus the grumbler keeps on grumbling. 

Let all the blessings of earth be given, 
Arrange all things to suit his will. 

Give him a seat in the highest heaven, 
The chronic grumbler will grumble still 



A COMMUNICATION. 

Since the preceding pages were put in type, the fol- 
lowing pertinent communication has fallen into my 
hands, which for point, force, and elegance of diction is 
rarely equaled by seeing writers. No reference is made 
to it in the table of contents, as that was set up and 
printed before I decided to introduce this letter ; but I 
find it so fully accords with my own experience, and the 
spirit of my little book, and so clearly corroborates 
many of the statements I have previously made in my 
own behalf, that I feel impelled to reproduce it for the 
benefit of my readers. 

The writer is evidently a man of some culture, of 
spirit, and of great force of character. He is painfully 
conscious of his social and physical disabilities and en- 
deavors in a masterly way to set the world right. His 
allusion to over-officious people who want to be kind 
but do not know how, and who sometimes mistake a 
want of sight for deafness, and bawl into our ears with a 
voice that would have waked Rip Van Winkle from his 
twenty years slumber, is both forcible and amusing. 



1 30 A Communication. 

I have many times gone into shops and stores to 
make a purchase or get a job of work done, and have 
been greatly annoyed by having men shout at me as if I 
were too deaf to hear common thunder ; when the fact 
is, I can hear better than people can who have their 
sight. This w^ant of thought on the part of many is 
greatly to be regretted, as we are sometimes led to think 
that people are angry with us because they talk so 
loudly, besides it makes us feel embarrassed and un- 
comfortable. 

Friends, speak to us in your natural tone of voice, 
and in all respects treat us like seeing men. I may 
have said something very much like this before, but I 
wanted to say it again. A truth cannot be too often 
repeated. 

The writer of the following communication is a native 
of Plymouth, England, and seems to have found the 
same misapprehension of his condition, and the same 
social difficulties to contend with that we experience in 
this country. It may be necessary to premise that this 
person at the time of losing his sight was learning the 
trade of cabinet-making, and had reached the age of 
eighteen years when he was accidentally blinded in the 
street, by the explosion of some chemical compound, 
which he was carrying in his hand. This melancholy 



A Communication. 131 

accident eventually drove him to music as a resource 
for pleasure, and employment for livelihood; and after 
twenty-two years of total blindness, he is said to be an 
accomplished musician and the proprietor of a music 
store. The following is his communication: — 

" In dealing with the subject of blindness, it is neces- 
sary to distinguish two classes of sufferers : the one, 
such as never saw at all ; and the other, such as have 
been deprived of sight, but had lived a sufficient time in 
the enjoyment of it for the impressions derived from it 
to have become fixed upon the mind. The latter is my 
own case ; and, consequently, some of my ideas will be 
found the same as those of persons who have always 
been in the enjoyment of their sight. 

" The following may be stated as the facts in my own 
experience, which appear to meet the questions under 
consideration : 

" My first feeling, after recovering from three weeks 
of burning pain and the effects of stupefying opiates, 
was that of disappointment, and much grief that my 
prospects in life were utterly ruined. In a short time 
more I should have been as well qualified as most oth- 
ers to contend with the world ; but the bright hopes of 
youth and the pleasurable anticipations of manhood 
now lay blasted before me. I did not, however, rest in 



132 A Communication. 

despondency. The novelty of my situation, and my 
being able to do certain things by the light of my im- 
agination only, which those around me could, in some 
instances, scarcely accomplish by the aid of sight, 
proved a great encouragement and an incentive to fur- 
ther exertions. 1 also soon found some amusement in 
trying my skill in certain branches of my former occu- 
pation ; but I f©und that although I could handle the 
tools as expertly as ever, I wanted the eye to mark the 
proper distance between the edge of the instrument and 
my own fingers. I could plane a piece of board as 
smoothly as ever ; but from the want of that which I 
had lost, could never succeed in adjusting its propor- 
tions with that geometrical accuracy which was essential 
to a good piece of work. So, finding that this would 
not do as a permanency, I sought a resource in the ear; 
and as music can be brought to bear at once upon the 
ear and upon the pocket, I betook myself to it as a pro- 
fession, and applied my physical and mental energies 
with such intensity to the pursuit, that I fell into another 
error, and obtained a practical demonstration of the fact 
that two and two do not always make four; for from the 
severity of my application to my studies, and not allow- 
ing myself the needful relaxation, my progress was dis- 
proportionate to my bodily strength, which became for 



A CoinmiLuication. 133 

a time much affected by the war it was constrained to 
keep up with a mind too active and too ardent for it to 
cope with long. 

" I have never found satisfaction or enjoyment in any 
matter which I am not able to reflect upon, so as to 
understand it in connection with some of its leading 
principles, or to be led by it to comprehend more fully 
some other thing with which I was before but partially 
acquainted. Even in music, with which I am now 
entirely surrounded, I can find no pleasure unless I am 
able to associate with it some idea of an intellectual 
or social character ; but this I can always do, and there- 
fore I am at all times able to derive much enjoyment 
from it. 

"Time never hangs heavily upon m}^ shoulders. I 
have no idle moments, having constant occupation for 
the mJnd, either in the resources of music, or in some 
other scientific or intellectual pursuit. These, being 
mental, belong, as you are well aware, to the highest 
sources of happiness ; and other enjoyments are avail- 
able only so far as they refer back to the mind again. 
The bustle and noise of crowded streets are agreeable 
rather than otherwise to me ; but only so far as that by 
this means I become acquainted through the ear with 
the nature of the pursuits in which my fellow-beings are 



134 ^ Communication. 

engaged. In public assemblies, whether for church, 
platform, or musical purposes, my recollections of former 
scenes readily, as though but yesterday visible to the 
eye, picture forth the whole to the imagination, in all 
the corresponding circumstances of both the speakers 
and the auditors. 

" I cannot conceive of any shade of difference in any 
particular, between the ideas of my own mind with refer 
enceto external objects, and those of persons who have 
never experienced the absence of sight; and certainly 
not between my own present notions and what they 
would have been had I never been called to endure this 
privation. In walking abroad amidst the verdure and 
foliage common to rural scenes, the nature of the one is 
readily intimated by the foot, and the extent and quality 
of the other by the gentlest breeze, or perhaps the sea- 
son of the year is indicated by the still stronger gale, 
the various notes of the feathered tribes changing with 
the periods of the year; — all these and many more cir- 
cumstances contribute to give the outline of the picture, 
or to furnish the materials from which the imagination 
can supply a complete landscape, even though the spot 
may be one altogether new to my experience. 

" I am not aware of the possibility of any seeing man 
ever reading or hearing a description of any place, per- 



A Coinniunication. 135 

soil, or thing whatever, without as instantaneously 
forming an image of the same in his mind as though it 
had been suddenly presented to his outward vision, and 
as indelibly remaining there as if he had actually seen 
the original ; but the correctness of the figure will only 
be in proportion to the accuracy of the description, and 
to the ability of the person to understand it and to asso- 
ciate therewith the characters corresponding to the 
account received. This power remains when sight is 
lost. For instance, there is no public character in past 
or present history with whose name I am familiar, what- 
ever may hav^e been his distinguishing characteristics, 
but whenever his name is brought to my mind, an ideal 
image of him invariably accompanies it. So with my 
most intimate friends ; those whom I knew in early life 
still retain in my mind the aspects under which they 
then appeared to me ; but if it happens that my ac- 
quaintance with them has been kept up, they are present 
to my mind with all the corresponding additional marks 
of increasing age. I am led to think from these facts, 
and from the vivid freshness with which ideas of form 
are impressed upon the mind, whether newly or more 
remotely created, that there cannot be any material dif- 
ference between my own impressions and those of one 



136 A Communication. 

who has always enjoyed the power of viewing objects 
by the eye. 

" Dreams are to me always replete with images of 
visible objects. In them I most decidedly see every 
person and thing which then becomes a subject of cog- 
nizance ; and they appear under the same aspects, and 
are invested with the same circumstances, as those which 
my imagination gives to them when I am awake, unless 
occasionally distorted or changed in the same way that 
familiar objects are often modified in the dreams of 
those who see. It is further remarkable that I do not 
j-emember to have had, for some years after losing my 
sight, the slightest consciousness in dreams that I was 
really in a state of blindness. More recently, my mind 
has occasionally even in sleep reverted to this fact ; but 
the consciousness has always been accompanied by the 
delightful feelings of one surprised to find himself sud- 
denly restored to the possession of a treasure which he 
had lost. 

"The sense of touch, like that of hearing, is rendered 
much more sensitive in the blind than in those who see, 
from the simple fact of its being kept in constant requi- 
sition. It is a part of my profession to regulate and tune 
musical instruments, and when opening a piano-forte for 
that purpose, a single sweep of the hand over tlje sur- 



A Communication. 137 

face of the wires enables rae to detect the absence of a 
single string ; nor do I find the slightest difficulty in 
discovering the cause of any derangement in the ma- 
chinery. I can also tell the time by a watch, nearly 
enough for all practical purposes ; but in this particular 
I was greatly outmatched by a person with whom I 
once resided who had never been in possession of sight. 
" Touching the very important question as the relative 
position of the seeing and unseeing man to each other, 
I do not hesitate to say that all the most painful of the 
disadvantages with which I have to contend under the 
absence of sight, have arisen entirely from the former 
not sufficiently understanding the capabilities and resour- 
ces of the latter. In dealing with the blind, the person 
who is in the enjoyment of sight usually falls into one 
or more of several errors to which he is liable. He 
shoots too high or too low, too far or too short of the 
mark, and yet, strange and paradoxical as it may seem, 
he never fails to hit; and if his victim happens to be one 
of the sensitive order, he is sure to feel the shaft in his 
tenderest parts. He is walking in the streets ; some one 
accosts him, and acting upon the principle that those 
who cannot see cannot hear, he puts his mouth close to 
his ear, and bawls as though he were speaking to a deaf 
man. He proceeds a little farther, and some officious 



138 A Coimnunication. 

passer-by catches hold of him, and nearly capsizes him 
in attempting to lift him over some step or other obsta- 
cle, which, if left to his own resources, he would have 
passed with the greatest ease. These things would be 
trifles did not the class of misconceptions which they 
indicate, seriously affect the blind man's social position 
and his prospects in life. 

"Suppose, for instance, the case of a blind man, who, 
by the most persevering application, has fully qualified 
himself for some important office connected with his 
profession — say, of music. He hears of an advertise- 
ment, and he makes the requisite application, but is told 
that as he cannot see he cannot play. The next time an 
opportunity offers, he determines to go in person — say, 
a hundred mile's, and in winter, too — to show that he can 
play. He performs in public and in private, and shows 
himself competent to the discharge of all the duties of 
the employment which he seeks, but the feeling that one 
who can see is more competent for it than one who can- 
not, still stands between him and success. He returns, 
and endeavors to establish himself in his native town. 
He introduces himself to those who are most likely to 
advance his interests; he exhibits himself, so to speak, 
he is approved, he excites some sensation. People cry, 
'Wonderful !' they tell him that he plays *as if he had eyes 



A Coinmiuiication. 139 

in his fingers' ends;' with much more of the same sort. 
But then still comes the incredulous inquiry: ' How can 
you teach ?' He explains, he illustrates, he offers to 
prove his competency to impart instruction upon their 
own persons, and on their own terms: and it is only 
when the fact is thus demonstrated that they at length 
believe. Thus he goes on, continually working against 
the prejudice which his condition creates; and thus it 
ever must be till people generally take the trouble to 
inform themselves better on the subject, and know fully 
how to estimate such a being as a man without sight. 

" Let it not be supposed that I speak of these things 
with censure, or from any disposition to find fault. But 
these are facts, and experience is daily adding to their 
number; and they are mentioned as things arising from 
a want of correct appreciation in others of the blind con- 
dition, and not as evils necessarily connected with that 
condition : for I am convinced that there are simple, 
proper and available means, by which the mind might 
be brought to feel blindness as no privation at all. It is 
only from the friction which attends his intercourse with 
those who see, and not from the sense of privation in 
himself, that the blind man has cause for grief 

" I should be sorry in any remarks of mine, to fail to 
recognize a superintending and all-wise Providence : but 



140 A Communication. 

the Creator expects men to help one another along in 
the path of life ; and, in the present case, the remedy- 
can only be applied by the same hands which ignorantly 
and innocently deal the mischief. To this end, the real 
position of the blind, and the nature of their resources, 
must be better understood by those who can see ; and 
truly happy shall I be, if the remarks which I have here 
put together, should be made in any degree instrumental 
in helping other blind persons over the difficulties which, 
by the help of God, I have been enabled to surmount." 



POETRY OF THE DEAF. 

Although my publisher has facetiously reminded me 
that blanks are sometimes more eloquent than printed 
pages, yet I am inclined to think that my readers will be 
better pleased with a closely printed book than with the 
silent eloquence of blank leaves. Wise words, happy 
thoughts, and healthy sentiments are always more 
agreeable and instructive to me than grave silence. It 
is urged by some that the world is too full of sentiment ; 
that our literature is burdened with a sort of sickly sen- 
timentality that enervates the mind, and like modern 
confectionery, poisons and inflames the imagination with 
high colors and false flavors. This charge is chiefly 
made against poetry and romance, and doubtless there 
is some justice in the pleading. I have never sent a 
poem to the press without feeling that some apology 
ought to accompany it. I love true poetry because I 
love nature ; but because I love nature is no evidence 
that I can picture her charms tn metrical verse. 

It is not wonderful that the blind should scribble 
verse ; that we should invoke the aid of the muses, and 



142 Poetry of the Deaf. 

feel about us in the darkness for beautiful similitudes 
and tangible imagery ; and that we should feel our 
hearts inspired with fine sentiments. We are eminently 
social and sympathetic. Our ears are tuned to poetic 
numbers and musical cadences; but that one who has 
been so deaf from childhood that he could not hear the 
most terrific peal of thunder, should tune up his lyre 
and sing to his sweetheart in flowing numbers is to me 
very marvelous. For the benefit of the curious, and to 
show that true poetry is the language of the heart rather 
than of the intellect, that the soul may sing though sur- 
rounded by unbroken silence, I have selected the fol- 
lowing poem from several others of less merit. As this 
effort at versification is severely criticised by the author 
himself and was originally published under protest, I 
withhold the author's name. Not that I consider the 
composition faulty, but because the writer evidently 
underrated his own ability, and wished only to show 
that poetry is possible to the deaf. 

Mary. i 

One sparkle from my Mary's eye 
Would I exchange for gems of Hind, 

Or spices of rich Araby ? 

No : — a clear glowing light hath shin'd 



Poetry of the Deaf. 143 

Into the caverns of my mind, 
To kindle thoughts which lay there cold, 
And quicken hopes which died of old. 

My soul to other vision blind, 

And casting all its griefs behind, 
Does count the diamonds and the gold 
Which Eastern kings have left untold 

But as a beggar's price to buy 

One sparkle of my Mary's eye. 



As the Chaldean from his plain, 
Upon him saw ten thousand eyes 
Look down from the unclouded skies ; 
And deemed them, while he looked again, 
The arbiters of joy and pain, 
And from their thrilling glances dre 
Conclusions most sublime — if true, 
So I resume my younger lore, 
And turn astrologer once more ; 
And happy horoscopes I raise, 
Replete with cheerful destinies, 
From the kindly beams that shine, 
Dear Mary in those orbs of thine. 



'W 



44 Poetry of the Deaf. 

m 

In "silence I have walked full long 
Adown life's narrow thorny vale, 

Deaf to the melody of song, 
And all music to me mute, — 
From the organ's rolling peal 
To the gay burst or mournful wail 

Of harp, and psaltery, and lute. 

Heaven's dread answer I have heard 

In thunder to old ocean's roar, » 

As while the elements conferr'd, 

Their voices shook the rock-bound shore 
I've listened to the murmuring streams, 
Which lulled my spirit into dreams, 
Bright hopes and fair imaginings, 
But false as all that fancy flings 
Upon a page where pain and strife 
Make up the history of life. 

And so beneath o'ershadowing trees, 
I've heard leaves rustle in the breeze, 
Which brought me the melodious tale 
Of the all vocal nightingale, 
Or else, the cushat's coo of pride 
Over his own new mated bride ; — 



Poetry of the Deaf. 145 

Yes : I have heard thee— Nature, thee, 

In all thy thousand voices speak, 
Which now are silent all to me : — 

Ah, when shall this long silence break, — 
And all thy tides of gladness roll 
In their full torrent on my soul ? 

But as the snows which long have lain 

On the cold tops of Lebanon, 

Melt in the glances of the sun, 
And, with wild rush, into the plain 
Haste down, with blessings in their train : — 
So, Mary, gilded by thine eye 

Griefs melt away, and fall in streams, 

Of hope into the land of dreams, 
And life's inanities pass by 
Unheeded, without tear or sigh. 

True, that the human voice divine 

Falls not on this cold sense of mine ; 

And that brisk commercing of thought 

Which brings home rich returns, all fraught 

With ripe ideas — points of view 

Varied, and beautiful, and new, 

Is lost, is dead, in this lone state 

Where feelings sicken, thoughts stagnate, 



46 Poetry of the Deaf. 

And good and evil knowledge grows 
Unguided and unpruned, and throws — 
Too often a dull sickening shade, 
Like that by trees of Java made, 
O'er hopes and o'er desires that might 
Have lived in glory and delight, 
Blessed and blessing others, till 
The gaspings of this life were still. 

But Mary, when I look on thee 

All things beside neglected lie, 
There is deep eloquence to me 

In the bright sparkle of thine eye. 
How sweetly can their beamings roll 
Volumes of meaning to my soul. 
How long — how vainly all — might words 
Express what one quick glance affords. 
So spirits talk perhaps when they 
Their feelings and their thoughts convey, 
Till heart to heart, and soul to soul 
Is in one moment opened all. 

Mary, one sparkle of thine eye 
I'd not exchange for all the gems 
That shine in kingly diadems, 

Or spices of rich Araby. 



Poetry of the Deaf. 147 



My heart would count th' refined gold 
Which Eastern kings have left untold 
But as a beggar's price to buy- 
One sparkle of my Mary's eye. 



\ am 2i beggar ; poor indeed ! 
That eye whose glance was ample meed 
For all the blood-strife that I knew, 
The toil, the sorrow I went through, 
No love, no strength, no skill could save 
From the obstructions of the grave. 
Was not that glance of heaven ? Oh, why 
Should things so little earthly die ? 
Why for the bridal of the tomb 
Clothe them in loveliness and bloom ? 

Who can these hard things answer ? Thou 
To whom perforce I turn me now. 
Oh ! I'm not only deaf but blind — 
Blind, blind of heart. Oh ! seek me, find 
Thy lost one — he is prone to stray 
From that sequestered and cool way, 
Where thine walk, guided by thine eye 
And cheered ; — and Thou dost never die. 



148 Poetry of the Deaf. 

It seems to me that no one can read this poem with- 
out being forced to the conclusion that poetic inspiration 
may reach the heart through the eye, though the ear be 
dead to the harmony of poetic numbers. The words are 
evidently not chosen for the sake of euphony, but to 
convey as clearly as possible the author's sentiment. It 
is true this effusion is lacking in what is known as 
rhythmic jingle, but for this reason it is to me all the 
more agreeable. As I have yet space for another selec- 
tion, I gladly give place to one more specimen of iambic 
verse from the same author: 

Alternatives. 

Were all the beams that ever shone 
From all the stars of day or night, 

Collected in one single cone, 
Unutterably bright ; — 

I'd give them for one glance of heaven 

Which might but hint of sin forgiven. 

Could all the voices and glad sounds 
Which have not fallen on my sense, 

Be rendered up in one hour's bounds — 
A gift immense ; — 

I'd for one whisper to my heart 

Give all the joy this might impart. 



Poetry of the Deaf. 149 

If the great deep now offered all 

The treasures in her bosom stored, 
And to my feet I could now call 

That mighty hoard ; — 
I'd spurn it utterly for some 
Small treasure in the world to come. 

If the sweet scents of every flower — 

Each one of which cheers more than wine — 

One plant could from its petals pour, 
And that were mine ; — 

I would give up that glorious prize 

For one faint breath from Paradise. 

Were all the pleasures I have known, 

** So few, so very far between," 
Into one great sensation thrown — 

Not tJien all mean ; — 
I'd give it freely for one smile 
From Him who died for me erewhile. 



REMINISCENCES OF INSTITUTION LIFE. 

It is now about twenty-five years since I took my 
clearance at the port of the old Institution for the blind, 
at New York, in the form of a parchment roll tied with 
a blue ribbon, weighed anchor in its usually calm and 
peaceful harbor, and pushed out on the rough sea of life 
to paddle my own little bark. 

It cannot, therefore, be expected that I shall remem- 
ber distinctly, and record accurately the many amusing 
and interesting incidents that occurred during my pupil- 
age there. I was an inmate of that Institution eight 
years, — seven years a student, and one year a teacher of 
music and literature. During the latter part of this 
term, I was brought into quite intimate social relations 
with the officers and teachers, and learned something of 
the workings of such an Institution. If distance lends 
enchantment to the view, time also mellows the heart, 
softens asperities, and sweetens all the bitter feelings 
incident to a student's life. I feel prepared, therefore, 
after this lapse of time, to look back on my Institution 



Initiation of Pupils. 1 5 I 

life without prejudice, animosity, or favoritism. I would 
not write, or speak a word to injure the feelings of my 
old class-mates, to save my sorest corn from being step- 
ped on ; and for the directors, officers and teachers of 
that period, I entertain the highest regard. 

The process of seasoning new pupils, or hazing, as 
it is called at college, is much milder than in schools for 
the seeing, but is always made the occasion of great 
merriment. It consists chiefly in playing practical jokes 
on the country greenhorns, (or pumpkin-eaters as the 
freshmen are called,) for the purpose of taking the rus- 
ticity off from them, and reducing their self esteem to a 
healthy temperature. When a new pupil enters the In- 
stitute, he is generally put in charge of some pious, 
sedate young man, who is instructed to act as his guide 
and body-guard, until he has learned the shape of the 
house, playgrounds, &c., his way to the dining hall, 
dressing room, dormitories, music rooms, school rooms, 
water closet, &c. These are sad, gloomy days for him. 
He has left a pleasant home, perhaps, kind and indulg- 
ent friends, whose genuine love and sympathy he greatly 
misses. During this time he is hardly noticed by the 
older pupils, and if spoken to at all by the principal or 
teachers, it is done in a very condescending way. The 
matron, or mother of the establishment, (who has usu- 



152 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

ally some heart,) singles out the new comers, and be- 
stows upon them such little marks of kindness as her 
arduous duties will allow. In this way the novice is left 
to season for a few weeks, before he is put through the 
pickers. He is commonly first attracted by the sound 
of the great organ, pianos and band instruments, and 
expresses a great desire to learn to play each and all of 
them. An old joke in my time was to send the would- 
be-musician to the old professor of music who could 
swear fluently in German, French and English, and 
when annoyed would furnish a specimen of each, or if 
very angry would mix the three into the most ludicrous 
profanity I ever heard. He seldom exhibited irritation, 
however, when a new pupil invaded his music room. 
He would take him kindly by the hand and say, " Veil, 
my young friend, vot you vant ?" On being told by the 
young rustic that he wanted to practice on the chapel 
organ, or wanted the mouth-piece to the swinette, or 
would the Prof please lend him a musical ear, that the 
boys said he kept them, the old professor would laugh 
and say : " Tem roguish poys vant to fool 5/ou ; it vill 
be yet some time before you vill blay the pig organ ; be 
patient, my young frient, you must not believe everyting 
vot you hear." 

Another game, was to make the new scholar believe 



Love of Fun. 1 5 3 

that it was customary to go to supper on Sunday night, 
in his stocking feet, or without a coat. This afforded 
the boys an opportunity to step on his toes, or called 
the Superintendent's attention to his indecorous appear- 
ance, and he would be sent from the dining room. 

It may be supposed that a school composed entirely 
of blind boys and girls would be easily governed ; that 
insubordination to superiors, flagrant violations of rule, 
and mischievous pranks could not be reckoned among 
the troubles and perplexities of managing such an insti- 
tution. But 1 apprehend that the officers and teachers 
of schools for the blind, can fully sympathise with prin- 
cipals and professors of colleges and seminaries all over 
the world. One would naturally think that children 
whose sightless condition would seem to render them 
so helpless and dependent, would be passive, tractable, 
and not disposed to engage in tricks and games for the 
purpose of annoying and teasing each other, or their 
teachers ; but this is not the case, human nature is per- 
verse wherever you find it, and the love of fun and frolic 
is as strong in the blind youth as in any. 

A piece of mischief that seemed to annoy the Super- 
intendent more than any other, and never failed to put 
the whole house in disorder, was stealing the bell-clap 
pers. This would occur periodically, three or four times 



1 54 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

a year, but the perpetrators were never detected. The 
confusion occasioned by it was extremely amusing. 
When the French cook, whose duty it was to wake us 
up in the morning, would climb up to the third story to ' 
ring the office bell and find it clapperless his rage knew 
no bounds. He would shake the voiceless bell, and 
swear in French, English and Dutch, while we were 
smothering our laughter under the bed-clothes. After 
assuring himself that the thing wouldn't give down, he 
would rapidly descend to the kitchen muttering, " I vill 
tell Mizzer Cham von blind boy he dam rascal," The 
principal teacher, who usually rung the prayer bell, was 
a very amiable man, and would have been wise and 
equal to any emergency \i he could have carried all the 
volumes of Chambers' Encyclopedia in his coat pocket. 
He had inventive genius enough, however, to supply a 
vacant bell with an improvised clapper. This he did by 
pounding on it with the poker ; but not loud enough to 
wake up the boys, who were good sleepers, and seldom 
permitted anything but the danger of losing their break- 
fast, or the cry of fire to disturb their slumbers. Con- 
sequently, the chapel services on these occasions were 
thinly attended. A solemn lecture, however, from the 
Superintendent, was generally enjoyed by those present. 
The same difficulty was met by the dining room girls in 



Bell- Clapper Fever. 1 5 5 

calling us to breakfast, for it always happened that all 
the bells were robbed of their tongues in the same night ; 
but the poker being again called into requisition, the 
breakfast bell was rung, and we who were ready for the 
feast of smoky coffee, skippery cheese, rancid butter and 
stale bread, marched in and took our respective places, 
behind our respective stools, and waited for a blessing to 
be invoked upon these bounties. The signal for saying 
grace, (which was generally done by one of the older 
pupils in a pious tone of voice, but with rapid utterance,) 
was a tap of the bell ; but as the bell wouldn't tap with- 
out the poker, grace was omitted, and we proceeded to 
business. 

I may as well say here that we did not eat in silence, 
but freely bandied jokes, related anecdotes, fired squibs 
of witticism, and speared each other to our heart's con- 
tent. I was always glad of this laxness in discipline, for 
I think we enjoyed this feast of mind and flow of soul 
better than our bread and coffee. During the breakfast 
hour, the Superintendent sometimes read to us from the 
morning papers, when order and silence were enforced ; 
but never on bell-clapper days, — he was too much out 
of temper. There was a rule that no one should leave 
the dining room until the bell was struck. This Hannah 
would do by hitting it against the iron post, which was 



156 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

the signal for a general laugh and scamper for the play- 
ground. 

At nine o'clock, the hour for study and work to com- 
mence, the bell and poker were again rung ; but before 
noon the man of all work was sent for and new tongues 
put in all the bells. The joke was then dropped, and 
things moved on in the even tenor of their way, until the 
bell-clapper fever again returned, when it would be 
found that all the bells in the house were again speech- 
less, except the belles who used to flirt with the clerks 
and assistants ; tJieir tongues were never silent. Again 
the servants and faculty were troubled and exasperated, 
from the French cook to the President of the board of 
managers, and renewed efforts were made to detect the 
author of this mischief Finding that lectures, threats, 
and intimidations failed, the Superintendent hit upon a 
a new plan which he thought must discover the culprit. 

All the boys who were thought capable of such mali - 
cious mischief, or of having any knowledge of the mat- 
ter, were summoned to the office, and stood up in a row 
along the wall on one side of the room. The old pro- 
fessor who believed that a guilty conscience made a 
guilty face, then took his position in front of the row, 
where he could see the expression of each countenance, 
and began to question and cross question, somewhat as 



The Investigation. 157 

follows : " John, look me in the face." "I can't, sir." 
*' Well, turn your face this way." "With pleasure, sir." 
** Now, tell me, do you know anything about this bell- 
clapper business ?" " No, sir." " Have you had no 
hand in it ?" " No, sir, nor had it in my hand." " You 
are insolent." " Beg pardon, sir, I didn't intend it." 
" David, can you tell me who it is that makes a practice 
of taking the clappers from the bells?" "No, sir, it's a 
bad practice and makes us fellows a great deal of troub- 
le." ** Hark, sir ! I did not ask for comments. Joseph, 
Daniel, Abel, Isaac, are either of you guilty of meddling 
with the bells ?" " No, sir." " Do you know of any 
boys bad enough to commit such a misdemeanor ?" 
" Oh, yes," responded all the voices in concert. "Will 
you name them?" "Well, let me see, there is Mr. 
Root," said one, meaning George F., the vocal teacher. 
"And Robert Elder," said another, " And Mr. Reiff" 
said the third. " Silence, boys." said the professor in a 
voice of thunder, " I will have you all punished. Now 
let me warn you ; if I can find the one who is guilty of 
this outrage upon the peace and good order of this 
house, I will have him expelled without a moment's 
notice. You may go." After this novel examination, 
the Superintendent came up in the schoolroom, where 
several of the older pupils and graduates were assem- 



158 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

bled, and with tears in his voice, if not in his eyes, 
entreated the young men to aid him so far as might be, 
in suppressing this practice of robbing the bells. This 
was cheerfully promised, and one young man out of the 
fullness of his heart, offered to send the bells to the 
hardware and have the clappers restored, paying for 
them from his own slender purse. This generous offer, 
I am ashamed to say, was accepted, and had no better 
effect than to attach suspicion to him, that he was in 
some way implicated, particeps criminis, as the lawyers 
have it ; but the real culprit was never detected. The 
bell-clapper fever still visited the Institution periodically, 
and no remedy v/as found, until a large bell was pur- 
chased and hung on the chapel. This was rung for all 
occasions until the people outside began to regard it as 
a nuisance. 

One morning this bell had not been rung for break- 
fast in season, and the French cook, whose irascible 
temper could brook no delay, rushed into the dining 
room, grasped the bell rope and gave it a tremend- 
ous pull. The floor being bare and somewhat icy, 
the cook's feet flew up, and his head came down, so 
quick that he had not time to say, " Dieu de del ! jf'ai 
casse 7na tete f before his back struck the floor with a 
thud that jarred the mugs on the table, and frightened 



Cutting the Bell Rope. 159 

the rats in the cellar. The bell rope, which some sly 
urchin had cut nearly off was still in his hands, the 
devil in his heart, fury and vengeance depicted on his 
countenance. With a muttered curse on " von damn 
blind boy," and something about poison, he left the 
room amid explosions of laughter from the waiting girls. 
And yet this same old Frenchman had a chord of 
sympathy in his nature, and some generous impulses. 
He had a few favorites among the boys, and I fortunate- 
ly was one of them. He used frequently to invite me 
into his kitchen and pantry, to give me cakes, baked 
apples, and other nicknacks. He has even brought 
tarts and pieces of cranberry pie to my bed. This was 
intended for kindness, but it nearly ruined my digestion. 
One night after the ten o'clock bell had rung, which 
was the last curfew, feeling tremendously hungry, I went 
with a chum of mine over to the kitchen, and we were 
each rewarded with a huge slice of bread and butter 
and a hunk of cheese. While we were standing before 
the fire and munching our lunch, in walked no less a 
personage than the grave and dignified Superintendent. 
We heard him coming and knew his step, but there was 
no escape. Strange to say, however, he did not reprove 
us, but administered a severe rebuke to John, the cook, 
ending with his usual admonition : '' Now let this be 



i6o Remmiscences of Institution Life. 

the very last time.'' When this comes to the ear of my 
friend the " Major," he will remember how ardently we 
wished for a small hole to crawl out at. 

Notwithstanding this old Frenchman's freaks of gen- 
erosity, he was made the victim of many tricks and 
pranks, both by the boys and girls. One night as he 
was locking the screen door, a wash dish of water, tar 
and flour, was emptied on his bare head. He had long, 
curly hair, and bushy whiskers, wore a red shirt and 
white apron. The sorry plight, therefore, in which he 
appeared before the Superintendent's door, can be better 
imagined than described. The water was dripping from 
his clothes, the flour and tar were in his hair and whis- 
kers, when with frantic rage he rushed into Mr. C.'s 
presence, gesticulating violently. I will not attempt to 
describe his language. No one could do it. It was not 
made up of words, but broken ejaculations in French, 
English, Portuguese, and a dozen unknown tongues, in - 
terspersed with coughs, sneezes and oaths, that even an 
Indian agent could not have interpreted. " Never mind, 
John, go and wash," said the astonished Superintendent, 
trying hard to keep down his risibles, but ready to burst 
with laughter, " I will attend to those bad boys." But 
the matter was never investigated. 

Another remarkable character at the Institution was 



Locked Out. 1 6 1 

John the baker. He was a full blooded Englishman, 
morose and taciturn, and so cross that no one dared to 
meddle with him. One ev^ening, several of the older 
pupils and graduates of both sexes, went out to spend a 
social hour or two, and as it often happened, they did 
not return until long after the hour for retiring. So on 
reaching the Institution grounds they found the house 
securely locked, and judging from the stillness that pre- 
vailed, everybody fast asleep. Here was a dilemma. 
They couldn't get in and they couldn't stay out. At 
last a happy thought struck one of the young men. He 
remembered that John the baker kept late hours in 
order to have hot rolls in readiness for the officers' 
breakfast. Knowing about the locality of the bake- 
room, he went around on Thirth-third street and rapped 
on the window. " Who is there ?" said a gruff voice. 
" John, please come to the front door and unlock it ;" 
said Robert in a low voice. " Not to save you from 
'anging;'" growled the baker. " I 'ave just got my 
hoven 'ot and I caunt leave it." " Only come and turn 
the knob," pleaded Rob, ** it will only take a minute." 
" Well," said John, ** go a'ead hand make 'aste." In a 
moment he was at the door, threw it open and rushed 
out. The door, having a spring, immediately closed 
and the night latch caught. When John found himself 



1 62 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

locked out, his rage was terrible. He kicked, he 
jumped, he swore and ran round the circle like a mad 
bull, ejaculating with every jump, " Oh my hoven ! 
my hoven !" The French cook having been at last 
aroused, the door was opened again, and the baker rushed 
in like a weasel in a knot-hole. 

I am glad to be able to record this fact, that among 
so many boys representing the different classes and 
grades of society, very few had habits of dissipation, and 
few were mean enough to steal from each other. Pies, 
cakes, nuts, candy and other edibles were not safe, how- 
ever, in drawers, trunks or desks, without being securely 
locked. I have often had tobacco and cigars stolen, and 
one day missed a bottle of camphor liniment, which con- 
tained some caustic ingredient. On Sunday I detected 
the odor of my liniment on one of the boys' heads. He 
had mistaken it for hair oil. He was a lame boy, and 
enjoyed the soubriquet of Timber Shin, because 1^ had 
a wooden leg, for the purchase of which I had contrib- 
uted my last half dollar, and I thought the stealing of 
my liniment but a poor return for my charity, and was 
only sorry it did not take all his hair out. 

One of the graduates who was employed as an assist- 
ant music teacher, was greatly annoyed by having the 
lock of his drawer picked and his dinner stolen. He 



Theft. 163 

boarded some distance from the Institution, and to save 
himself the trouble of walking to and from his boarding 
house, he would bring his dinner in a little pail, and 
deposit it in his private drawer in the dressing room. 
But frequently when he went for his lunch, he would 
find the pail empty. He held several inquests over this 
lunch-pail, but failed to elicit any evidence that seemed 
to point to the guilty party. Day after day his lunch 
would disappear, in the same mysterious and provoking 
manner. This was too much for even a good-natured 
Scotchman to bear. He plead, he expostulated, he en- 
treated, he threatened ; but all to no purpose. It is said 
there are some things in this world that have no con- 
science, and a hungry stomach is one of them. The 
boys would steal his dinner. At last he collected the 
music-room full of pupils, and announced with terrible 
earnestness, that he would put poison in his dinner-pail, 
that the next villain who stole his dinner should die as 
he deserved. " Well," said a little fellow, "he'll die with 
a full stomach, that's one consolation." Finally the pro- 
fessor hit upon the plan of leaving his lunch -pail in the 
office. This proved to be a safer plan, but even then he 
sometimes found it empty. 

I do not know that theft is justifiable under any cir- 
cumstances, but I could never find it in my heart to con- 



164 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

demn a poor hungry boy or girl for stealing a good 
dinner, especially in a public institution or boarding 
house where the fare is so meager. We had pie but 
once a year, and turkey or chicken on Christmas only ; 
but these extras were usually donated by our good 
friend and patron saint, Nicholas Dean. He should 
have a monument erected by the blind with this inscrip- 
tion : " He was eyes for the sightless, he had feeling 
for their infirmity, sympathy for their sorrows, kind 
words to cheer, and his heart and purse were ever open 
to their needs." 

In justice to the committee on supplies, I ought to 
say here, that an abundance of the staple articles of food 
were provided, but they were never prepared and brought 
on the pupils' table in a palatable condition. In plain 
English they were not properly cooked, and the style in 
wiiich they were served up would have disgusted an 
Esquimaux or a Comanche Indian. The officers' table, 
however, was bountifully furnished with a generous 
variety of food, well cooked and served up in princely 
style. The smell of beefsteak, hot cakes, and good cof- 
fee of a winter's morning would exasperate us beyond 
measure ; for we knew that the savory odors of these 
luxuries were all we should have the privilege of enjoy- 
ing. I used to think, and still believe that a more hygi- 



Plain Fare. 165 

enic manner of living, would have been less expensive 
and less damaging to our digestion. After a hearty 
dinner of pork and beans, I used to mope about, the rest 
of the day with about as much life and activity as an 
anaconda might be supposed to exhibit after swallowing 
a Ceylcn missionary. Although I have not the statis- 
tics to compare, I will hazard the conjecture that " Our 
Home on the Hillside'' will feed the same number of 
inmates on healthier, more palatable, more nutritious 
food, for much less money than it costs our Institution 
to furnish its tables, and while we rarely had a tooth- 
some morsel, the guests and patients at " Our Home " 
fare sumptuously every day. 

One winter for some reason the committee had sup- 
plied a large quantity of corned beef This was worked 
up into every variety of dish that the inventive genius 
of a French cook could devise, till the pupils loathed 
the very smell of it, as did the children of Israel the 
quails in the wilderness. At last, one of the older pupils 
who had some faculty for rhyming, went into the office 
while the Superintendent was at dinner, and by the aid 
of an amanuensis wrote the following lines on the office 
slate : 

" Mr. B., we have come to the sage conclusion. 
That this benevolent Institution 



1 66 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

Has searched all over the broad creation, 
To find the mammoth bull of Bashan ; 
That he was found some time last fall, 
And corned, with head, and horns, and all ; 
Corned beef raw, and corned beef roasted. 
Corned beef boiled, and corned beef toasted. 
Corned beef tender, and corn beef tough. 
Now, Mr. B., we've had corned beef enough." 
But the corned beef was on hand and had to be eaten. 
If at this late date, I feel my heart go out in gratitude 
toward those who proved themselves true friends of our 
Institution, I find in it no vindictive feeling for those 
who served the public, as officers of a beneficent Institu- 
tion, for the salary they received only: and love of petty 
power, I might have added, for they had the privilege 
of tyrannizing over a class of persons entirely at their 
mercy, whose only resources and facilities for education 
could be found at such a school, who must accept the 
situation, or go home disgraced, and into the world to 
do life's battle, not only blind, but ignorant. 

To show that matters sometimes reached a point 
where forbearance ceased to be a virtue, and that the 
pupils had spirit enough to repel indignities and insults, 
I will relate one little incident. Under the state regula- 
tion, which very justly does not exclude any person 



Negro Equality. 167 

from the benefits and advantages of our Institution, a 
half witted negro boy was received and placed at once 
on an equality with the older pupils ; that is, one of the 
best beds was assigned him in the dormitory among the 
young men, whose olfactories were rather sensitive. 
Had he been a colored boy of good sense, and cleanly 
habits, no one would have raised any serious objection ; 
but he was a poor simpleton, and filthy withal. The boys 
accordingly called an indignation meeting and voted 
Cuff out of their bedroom. They resolved that a darkey 
should not be stuck under their noses, and appointed a 
committee to remove the nuisance, which was speedily 
done. He was taken out of his bed and put into the 
bed of Mr. J., the principal teacher, whose room was 
only separated from ours by a thin slat partition. At 
that time Mr. J. was courting the nurse, and did not 
usually come up to his den until about midnight. Sev- 
eral of us were lying awake to enjoy the fun. About 
twelve o'clock the professor came tripping along, heel 
and toe, with lamp in hand. In breathless silence we 
listened. He opened the door of his bedroom, but did 
not go in. He stood for some time on the threshold, in 
utter amazement. Whether he was angry or frightened, 
or thought he saw Banquo's ghost, we could not deter- 
mine. At length he walked cautiously in, put down his 



1 68 Reminiscences of Institutio7i Life. 

lamp and stood in mute astonishment, gazing no doubt 
on the sooty face and woolly head that pressed his 
downy pillow. " Henry !" said he, shaking the snoring 
Ethiopian, " what does this mean ? Who put you 
here?" " I dunno, g'way ! g'way !" said the disturbed 
darkey. " Henry ! Henry ! wake up, you are in the 
wrong bed," screamed the professor. ** G'way ! g'way !" 
growled the idiot. By this time the boys in the dormi- 
tory were fairly awake and enjoying the sport. We did 
not dare to laugh aloud, fearing Mr. J. would know our 
voices, and report us at headquarters. Very soon, how- 
ever, he took his lamp and went out as he came in, heel 
and toe, through the hall in search of the chambermaid. 
Now was our time to laugh, and the bedroom rung with 
exultant voices. Directly Biddy came up, took th<^ 
negro to the sick room, and changed the sheets of the 
professor's bed. This was the last snuff we had of 
the fragrant African, and no effort was made to detect 
and punish the offenders. It was doubtless considered 
a good joke and dropped. 

In order to preclude the possibility of intermarriage 
among the pupils, and to guard against other direful 
consequences, the Fathers of the Institution thought it 
expedient to adopt as the first rule, — " There shall be an 
entire separation of the sexes." Of course this rule had 



Rule First. 169 

some modifications. We were permitted to meet in the 
public parlor, in the recitation rooms, chapel, &c., but 
only under the vigilant eye of the matron or some of 
the teachers. Like other youths, many of us were 
ardent, and longed to lavish our affections on something 
human or divine, and were not content to worship our 
divinities at a distance. There was a partition of matched 
boards between the girls' and boys' piazza. Through 
this, some rebel against rule first, had cut a hole large 
enough to kiss through, and to shake hands with the 
girls. 

" Through this little chink the lover could greet her, 

And secrecy made their courting the sweeter, 

While Peter kissed Thisbe, and Thisbe kissed Peter, — 

P'or kisses, like folks with diminutive souls. 

Will manage to creep through the smallest of holes." 

One day while the officers were at dinner, we made a 
battering ram of one of the boys who wore stoga boots, 
and battered this partition down. It was afterwards 
replaced by a double thickness of boards, securely 
nailed, with tin between. Even this barrier would soon 
have been cut away, had not the culprit been detected 
and summarily expelled from the Institution. But this 
did not prevent clandestine meetings, and harmless little 



I/O Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

flirtations. I doubt if granite walls and solid iron-fences, 
horse-high and pig-tight, could have kept the boys and 
girls apart. 

Love-making among young people who could not 
even see each other's blushes, would seem ludicrous in 
the extreme to those who look for manifestations of the 
tender passion in the expression of the face, or glance of 
the eye : indeed it was deemed very reprehensible by 
the officers and teachers, who wanted to monopolize this 
business themselves. I am glad to be able to record, 
however, that from all the intimacies which rule first 
could not suppress, there came no harm, no disgrace, 
no scandal to the white pupils of our Institution during 
the eight years I spent there. It was reported that a 
little misfortune happened to one of the negro girls ; 
but her ignorance, and her low moral and social stand- 
ing, should be accepted as some apology in her case. 
It shows that intelligence, refinement, moral training, 
and social position, are great safeguards to virtue. 

It may be wondered whether any genuine courtships 
ever took place among the inmates of the Institution. I 
overheard one evening a specimen which I am now at 
liberty to describe, as the loving couple have been mar- 
ried for many years. The young man had been to town 
and filled his pockets with peanuts and candy, which he 



Peanut Courtship. 1 7 1 

doubtless intended for his sweetheart ; for he came up 
to the graduates' retreat, then fronting on Eighth Ave- 
nue, and went directly to the sitting room where he 
Tound his dulciana waiting for him. She was a most 
excellent girl, good and conscientious, but would en- 
courage these clandestine meetings. Besides being 
entirely without sight, she was partially deaf, and her 
voice was anything but melodious. When her lover 
threw a handful of peanuts in her lap, he said, " Lucre- 
tia, do you love peanuts ?" " Do I love you much?" 
she repeated, " Why Abel, you know I do." " No ! are 
you fond of nuts, — peaxi\x\.s ?" he shouted in a louder 
tone of voice, and blushing so deeply I could almost 
hear it in the darkness. " I have brought you some 
peanuts and candy," he said, sitting down close beside 
her, and lovingly taking her hand, 1 suppose, for this is 
the medium through which the magnetic currents may 
pass, when eye cannot signal to eye by tender glances, 
the emotions of the heart. "Abel, do you like pea- 
nuts?" she said. "Yes, indeed. I am very fond of them," 
he replied. "Why, how do you crack 'em ?" she simpered. 
"With my fingers, just so," — giving one a snap which 
she must have heard. " Let me crack some for you," 
she said presently, " and you take some of the candy." 
" No, I had rather take a kiss, darling." Here the con- 



1/2 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

versation became so sweet, that I do not care to record 
it for the benefit of outsiders who may not feel the same 
sympathy for the love-smitten couple, that I did just at 
that period of my life. 

I may truthfully say that many of the blind are ad- 
dicted to habits of intemperance and dissipation. This 
is sometimes excused in them on account of their lim- 
ited resources for pleasure and amusement, But I ask 
for no such apology in my case ; I think it will not be valid 
at the day of judgment. As I have said, but few of the 
boys at our Institute had formed these habits, but there 
was a laxness in moral sentiment in this respect, as well 
as in profanity. Many of them would drink when op- 
portunity offered, and swear as proficiently as if they 
had been schooled in a navy yard or the U. S. congress. 

There was one young man who worked in the willow 
shop who loved his toddy and often smuggled himself 
out, and smuggled himself in with a bottle of the deli- 
cious in his pocket. There was a rule, however, that 
prohibited any one leaving the premises without a per- 
mit from the Superintendent, and the back yard and 
playground were surrounded by a tight board fence 
about eight feet high, with sharp spikes driven in the 
top. But these the boys had pounded down in several 
places so that they might scale the fence without tearing 



Smuggling and Confiscation. 173 

their breeches. This our whiskey smuggler attempted 
to do one night, but just as he had got one leg over, the 
other was caught and held with a grip like an iron vise. 
He kicked and swore, threatened and coaxed, but all to 
no purpose. At last he changed his base, drew his leg 
back, jumped down and commenced belaboring his ene- 
my over the head with his hickory cane. " William ! 
William ! what are you about?" cried the astonished 
Superintendent, in an agitated voice. " Do you know 
whom you are pounding?" "Why, is it you, Mr. C?" 
growled Bill, " I thought it was one of the boys." This 
was not " Lord Stanley's " last adventure, however, he 
continued to go out after his dram and smuggled in 
many a bottle of blue ruin. 

There was also a rule against bringing in victuals. 
This was intended as a sanitary measure, to prevent the 
pupils from injuring their stomachs with pastry, confec- 
tionery, &c. ; but I used to think that the half-cooked 
food, the tainted meats and rancid butter they gave us, 
were more damaging than the little pies, cakes, and 
other nicknacks we sometimes bought at the city bakery, 
Ninth Avenue. 

One Saturday when our breakfast was slimmer than 
usual, (and which in truth some of us had missed by not 
being present at morning prayers,) a few of us, the 



174 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

" Wild Scotchman " among the rest, made up a purse 
and sent out to the bakery for rusk, gingerbread and 
cheese. " Honest George," a boy who had partial sight, 
was commissioned to purchase the provisions. On his 
way in, with his well-laden basket, he was captured in 
the front hall by the Superintendent, and compelled to 
disgorge. In the meantime we were anxiously waiting 
with our appetites whetted to a razor edge, and when 
George came up, and announced that our provender had 
been confiscated, our rage was fearful to behold. The 
" Wild Scotchman " cursed the Superintendent for a 
fool, — hoped the Lord would never forgive him, — said 
he would not if he was the Lord. Suffice it to say, we 
never got that basket of contraband provisions. 

At breakfast one morning we received a very liberal 
supply of brown sugar. This was so unusual that it 
excited comment, and many opinions were hazarded as 
to the cause. Some were suspicious that the sugar was 
not clean, and refused to eat it. Soon after breakfast a 
large number of us were assembled on the piazza to 
enjoy the sunshine, and the sugar question was again 
brought up and discussed. " Bedad, boys, I can explain 
that;" said Murphy in his rich Irish brogue, " but it's a 
delicate matter, and I'll not be afther betraying me 
friends." This hint excited our suspicions, and we were 



Brown Siigar Joke. 175 

determined to ascertain, if possible, what Tom knew 
about it. " Oh tell, please tell us, Tom," chimed in 
several voices. " Ye'll tell the girls, said Tom, " the 
swate crayters, and they'll turn their delicate stomachs 
inside out." This confirmed our worst suspicions, and 
we insisted on hearing what Tom knew about the sugar. 
" Well, now, bedad, boys, I'll tell ye," said he, " if ye'll 
promise not to tell the ould Professor," We promised, 
*' Hannah whispered to me not to ate a bit of the sugar, 
for one of John's cats had a litter of kittens on the cloth 
that was spread over the sugar barrel. It made a nice 
nest for the cat ; do you see ?" By this time several 
stomachs were emptied of their contents, and others 
were heaving, some were spitting, some swearing, others 
vowmg vengeance on John the cook, and his cats. 
Meantime Tom had vanished from the crowd, and hav- 
ing gotten beyond our reach, he shouted from the shop 
door : " Boys, it's all a lie. Hannah didn't say any 
such thing." " Come back, Tom, you rascal," shouted 
a dozen voices. But Tom was gone. 

Whether this story of Tom's was true or not we had 
great cause of complaint against these same cats. They 
were the only privileged characters in the house. They 
had access not only to the kitchen and pantry, but the 
dining rooms, and were allowed to run over the tables, 



1/6 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

to nibble the bread and to scent the rooms like a petro- 
leum refinery. Against this cat worship we had pro- 
tested many times, both to the matron and to the Super- 
intendent. We had presented a long category of com- 
plaints, — that our bread and butter tasted of cats, — that 
the dining room smelled of cats, — that our sleep was 
disturbed by cats, and that a great catastrophe would 
soon happen if John did not take care of his cats. 

As a cataplasm for our wounded feelings, we were 
promised that if we would destroy the cats we should 
have an oyster supper. This we knew would be a diffi- 
cult task to perform, as they were John's pets and he' 
could not be persuaded to kill them, so we resolved to 
do it ourselves. We accordingly erected a gallows in 
the alley and agreed with Sammy, a little Indian boy, to 
pay him sixpence for every French cat he would bring 
us. In a few days all but one had paid the penalty of 
their offenses against cleanliness and good order. 
Counting nine lives to each cat, sixty-three lives had 
been scratched out. The last one was difficult to cap- 
ture. He was a large, spotted animal, rather shy, and 
the prime favorite of his master. John had noticed the 
disappearance of his pets and suspected the conspiracy. 
He therefore kept an eye out for his favorite. One sun- 
ny day Sammy saw grimalkin slumbering on the grass 



Cats. 177 

in the bleach yard, but unfortunately around this enclos- 
ure was a high picket fence. Cautiously our little Indi- 
an scout climbed the paling, and crept across the lawn. 
He seized the cat and ran for the fence, but John's vig- 
ilant eye saw him. With a fearful oath he rushed from 
the kitchen and across the lawn like a whirlwind. Sam- 
my had secured his prize and was running at the top of 
his speed ; but the race was unequal. The Indian had 
short legs and a heavy cat to carry. The Frenchman 
was barefoot, bare-headed, and under a high pressure of 
fury. Sam reached the fence ; dropped the cat, threw 
himself over, and struck square on the top of his head. 
^' Envoyez au diable T hissed the Frenchman as he 
picked up his cat and returned to his kitchen. That 
cat we never got, nor the oyster supper, but we did get 
a clean dining room, and slept without the nightly ser- 
enades of a cat concert. 

In taking a retrospective view of my Institution life, 
I now see things in a very different light from the 
medium through which I then saw them. I now see the 
wisdom, justice and importance of rules and restrictions 
which then seemed unwise, oppressive, and cruel. 
Some of the best measures adopted for our comfort and 
convenience, were regarded by us as tyrannical, humili- 
ating, and insulting to our sense of propriety. Why 



178 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

cannot students see and understand that there must be 
discipline, or there can be no order? In an open resist- 
ance to authority, we could not hope to be successful, 
so we resorted to strategy and conspiracy. In one 
instance that I remember we came off victorious. 

It was found that the pupils were subjected to impert- 
inent questions, and other interruptions during study 
hours. Large placards were therefore printed and hung 
up in the school and music rooms, work-shops and halls. 
The letters were big and black, and read as follows : — 
" Visitors are particularly requested not to interrupt the 
pupils when they are engaged in work or study." This 
was intended for our protection, and why any one 
should have felt aggrieved I do not now understand ; 
but for some reason both the boys and girls felt offend- 
ed, and determined by a concerted action to show their 
displeasure, by turning all the cards with their faces to 
the wall. This hint was disregarded and the cards were 
again turned print side out. Resolved that the obnox- 
ious cards should not interfere with our pleasure and 
privilege of talking with visitors, we took them all down 
and burned them. For this we received a severe lecture. 
New cards were printed and put up, but they shared 
the same fate. At last the plan was abandoned as im- 
practicable, and we were jubilant. 



How the Blind Eat. 179 

The blind are eminently social in their nature. We 
were fond of company, and always delighted to have 
people from the outside world come to see us. They 
amused us with their curious questions and we found 
pleasure in chatting with them, and wished to learn as 
much as possible of the great world in which we hoped 
some day to make a sensation. 

It is astonishing what absurd questions are sometimes 
put to the blind by people of ordinary intelligence on 
any other subject. A lady once came to me in the music 
room, where I was practicing the piano. After listening 
for a moment she said, " I don't see how you find the 
keys." " Well, I don't see, either," said I. " I don't 
see," she continued, ** how you blind people learn music 
at all." *' We don't see, either," said I, " we do it by 
hearing." " Oh, how wonderful ! but I don't see how 
you learn the way through this great house." " We 
don't see, either," said I, '' we walk by faith." " Oh, how 
wonderful !" she repeated in a thoughtful tone. I had 
learned my catechism and was prepared for the next 
question. " What do you blind folks do when you get 
hungry ? " *' Why, we eat," said I, '* if we can find any- 
thing fit to eat." "Oh, how can you ? how do you find 
your victuals ? " " Oh, that is easy enough," said I, 
'* we eat nothing but spoon victuals from large mugs, 



l8o Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

with one end of a string tied to the handle and the other 
to one of our front teeth. This serves to guide the 
spoon, so that we are able to find our mouths." " Oh, 
how wonderful ! " she repeated as she left the room. 

To show what liberal souls there are in this world I 
will mention one incident, every word of which is true. 
One day I was called from the chemistry class and re- 
quested to go up to the chapel and play the organ for 
some ladies. This flattered my vanity, for although I 
practiced the big organ I was by no means a proficient 
on that instrument. So up I went, drew out the grand 
organ stop and made the thing toot to the entire satis- 
faction of the ladies. As they were leaving one of them 
took my hand and dropped into it a coin which I at 
once recognized as an old-fashioned penny. " We are 
not allowed to accept such large donations," said I, 
throwing the copper after them as they left the chapel. 

We were always glad, however, to entertain company, 
and nothing pleased us better than to be called from the 
work-shop to sing, or play in the band. One day some 
ladies of distinction came and desired to hear the famous 
Institution band. The members were soon assembled 
in the large music room, and seemed to be waiting for 
the ladies to come in, and for a signal from the leader to 
strike up the hurdy-gurdy with the inevitable Star 



Ridiculous Blunders. i8i 

Spangled Banner, Hail Columbia, and Yankee Doodle. 
While we were thus waiting the door stood wide open 
and a strong breeze was blowing through the room. 
This I determined to stop by closing the door, but in 
trying to find the knob I placed my hand square upon 
the full round breast of a plump little lady who stood 
leaning against the door. With a little scream of sur- 
prise she slipped out into the hall and I slipped back to 
my place in the band with cheeks as red as a peony. 

These ridiculous blunders, however, were not so com- 
mon among us who were entirely without sight as with 
the purblind, or those with partial sight. The young 
man who played the leading instrument in the band was 
one of this kind. He was v^ry tender-hearted, and if 
by accident he hurt any one his very soul bubbled out 
in apologetic expressions like, " Oh, dear ! " "I beg ten 
thousand pardons ! " " How awkward ! " ** Excuse me ! " 
One day Charley was going down the Eighth avenue at 
a pretty high rate of speed. A bevy of little girls were 
on the sidewalk and did not see Charley coming. As 
he ran against the first she fell against the next, and so 
on, until they lay in a heap like so many ninepins. 
Aware of the mischief he had done, with his heart brim- 
ming over with sorrow, he stooped down, and finding 
what he supposed to be a pair of bare arms he set the 



1 82 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

little one square on the top of her head. " Poor little 
dear," said he, *' are you hurt ?" 

Many of us were in the habit of travelling about the 
city alone, as I do in Dansville, but accidents of that 
kind rarely happened. 

As I have said, vi^e had frequent opportunities to en- 
tertain visitors. The Institution v/as flooded with them 
on visiting days. The elite of New York and Brooklyn 
came with their fine equipages, and strangers to the city 
in search of strange sights and wonderful things were 
sure to visit the Blind Asylum, as they called it. Guides 
were selected from among the blind girls, who were po- 
lite and chatty, to show strangers through the building 
and over the grounds. One day one of the guides 
brought a bevy of young ladies into the music room 
where Mr. A., an old friend and classmate of mine was 
practicing the piano. He had made just progress 
enough to accompany his voice in one song, — The Sil- 
ver Moon, — but had learned only the first verse of it. 
The ladies asked him to sing, which after some coaxing 
he consented to do. He said he knew but one song, 
that it was a very long one, and feared the ladies would 
grow weary before he finished. After receiving many 
assurances of their patience, he began as follows : 

" As I strayed from my cot at the close of the day, 
To gaze on the beauties of June," &c. 



The Bird that Could Sing but Wouldn't. 183 

After he had sung the first verse he stopped to com- 
ment, as he could not play an interlude, — said the next 
verse was much finer in sentiment, and sang the same 
one again. The ladies did not seem to notice the repe- 
tition, taking it for granted that a blind gentleman 
would not hoax them^. After he had sung it three times 
over they began to " smell a mice," and went laughing 
out of the room. 

Mr. A. was a general favorite with all the inmates of 
the house, especially on the ladies' side. He was ami- 
able, affable, fat and funny. One day he was sitting at 
his desk in the young men's school room, busily en- 
gaged with something that kept him silent and demure. 
It was on Saturday and the boys were engaged in play- 
ing cards, checkers, dominoes, &c., and several times 
invited Mr. A. to take part in their games and sports ; 
but he as often excused himself with the plea that he 
was busy. Finally a motion was made that Mr. A. sing 
a song in his Dempsterian style. This motion was car- 
ried unanimously, and a committee of three appointed 
to wait on the recluse, and compel him to sing in case 
he refused. I was on the committee and appointed 
chairman, or spokesman. We approached Mr. A.'s 
seat, and I said with assumed dignity : " Sir, we repre- 
sent the brain and muscle of the N. Y. Institute for the 



184 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

blind, and we have been instructed to wait on the great 
T^'coon, and to ask his excellency to favor us with a 
song. In case he refuses we are to enforce the rule of 
the house that * a bird that can sing and wont sing must 
be made to sing.' " " Wait a moment," said Mr. A., 
closing his desk, " and 1 will consider your message." 
Planting himself on the top of it he said, ** Boys, I warn 
you to let me alone. I am a dangerous man. I weigh 
one hundred and seventy-five pounds, and my fist weighs 
more than I do. I shall not sing. What are you going 
to do about it?" I slipped along on the desk beside 
him, took hold of his left arm, and said : " Old fellow, 
you are not angry, are you ?" " No, sir ; never better 
natured in my life ; but Hall, I advise you to keep 
away. You may get hurt." Just then a little nervous 
fellow, who was on the committee, came up in front to 
catch him by the legs. At that moment his fist came 
down like a sledge-hammer, and struck the fellow 
plumb on the top of his head, knocking him down as 
quick as if a thunderbolt had struck him. Anticipating 
a flank movement on my part he gave me a sling which 
sent me half way across the floor. The other member 
of the committee was an Irishman, who thinking matters 
were taking a serious turn, pitched in to fight in good 
earnest ; but as he had no shillaly, he made but little 



FiDiny Mistake. 185 

impression on the works, and the hundred -and-seventy- 
five pounder soon silenced his battery. Having thus 
achieved his independence, Mr. A. resumed his seat and 
went on with his work as serenely as if nothing had 
happened. This account is strictly true, and shows 
that life in those Institutions is not such a very tame 
affair after all. 

Two young men had a fight one day in the hall, as 
we were going to dinner. No officers were called, fair 
play was allowed, and the fight was finished. 

We had one boy who had rather fight than to eat his 
dinner; but the pugilistic element 1 am glad to say, was 
not common ; most of us had rather eat. 

Our fare was so plain that we used to look forward 
with great anxiety to our vacation time when we might 
go to our homes and from the plenteous stores of our 
friends, fill up the waste places in our jackets. 

Having gone through with our annual examination at 
the close of the term of 1847 we were jubilant, hilarious, 
— and hardly knew how to contain ourselves. Several 
of us big boys were in the school room. Some were 
lying on the desks, others were sitting on their stools. 
I was sitting on a chair behind the teacher's desk, and 
all in the dark. Two of the boys whom I shall call by 
their first names, William and Abel, were scuffling 



1 86 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

about on the floor. They were feeling gay. Vacation 
had commenced. The next day we were to leave for 
home. Abel wore slippers, and slipped behind the door 
which stood wide open. William was feeling for him, 
when the matron tripped in. He heard her footsteps, 
and supposing her to be the fellow he was searching 
for, grabbed her rather roughly, saying, " Now I've got 
you, I'll make your bowels yearn !" The voice of the 
matron as she inquired if Canisky was in the room, 
showed Will his mistake, and he let go of her, slinking 
away in the dark, without one word of apology. 

To show that persons without sight can sometimes 
see the point of a joke as well as other people, and that 
retaliation is as necessary in peace as in war, I will 
mention one more little circumstance in which I was 
personally interested, and for which I have never yet 
felt like upbraiding myself. I had obtained permission 
to go down town one Saturday to purchase a new coat. 
Having selected what was then called a business coat, 
made with a capacious pocket on each side, I put it on, 
found it a good fit, and came up to the Institution just 
as the supper bell was ringing, went in and took my 
place at the table. I was seated between two of the 
students who were as full of mischief as our tea was of 
flies. Under pretence of examining my new coat, they 



Waxed Ends. 187 

slipped several slices of buttered bread into its yawning 
pockets, at the same time praising the quality of cloth 
to divert my attention. Having occasion to use my 
handkerchief, I discovered the conspiracy, put the bread 
back on the plate, and mildly informed the young gen- 
tlemen that a day of retribution was coming, — that hard 
jokes like hard bullets sometimes rebounded and hurt 
the very ones that fired them. Here the matter was 
dropped, and nearly forgotten by the two rogues who 
played the trick on me. 

On showing the coat to the matron, I found it had 
been badly greased, and resolved to retaliate. One of 
the young men was very dressy, and had lately pur- 
chased for himself a pair of very fine doeskin breeches, 
of which he was extremely proud. Having provided 
myself with a piece of shoemaker's wax, I waited for an 
opportunity to give him what I called a waxed end. 
One Sunday when I knew he had on those seven-dollar 
pants, I hurried down to the dining room at the first tap 
of the bell and had just time to spread a nice plaster on 
the stools each side of me, before the boys came in and 
took their accustomed seats at the table. By the time 
the meal was over, the wax was so well warmed that it 
adhered as firmly to the seats of their pants, as to the 
stools on which they sat, and which I was told came up 



1 88 • Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

with them when they rose to leave the dining room. 
Anticipating the storm of invectives that must soon 
break over my head, I shpped from the room before the 
bell sounded the signal to leave, — at the risk of being 
called back by the Superintendent, — and found shelter 
in some quiet corner where I listened with exultant sat- 
isfaction to the amusing comments made by the boys on 
the uses of the waxed end. Should this truthful ac- 
count of our schoolboy days find the ear of J. B., who is 
still alive and prosperous, he will doubtless remember 
the sad end of those doeskin breeches. 

It will hardly be credited when I say that unlimited 
power of corporeal punishment was permitted by the 
managers of an Institution so humane in its designs, so 
noble in its aims, so Christlike in its missions, as the N. 
Y. Institution for the blind ; and yet it is true. I have 
known boys and even young men to be whipped until 
the coats on their backs were cut in strips. I came very 
near being whipped several times, and that too for very 
slight offenses. Once for refusing to pump water for the 
laundry, on the plea that " I came to learn books and 
not how to pump ; I had already served my apprentice- 
ship at that business." I was summoned to the office, 
charged with insubordination, and narrowly escaped a 
sound thrashing. 



Corporeal Pu nishment. 1 8 9 

The last straw that broke the camel's back, and ban- 
ished the rod from the Institute, was an event so impor- 
tant, and had in it so much of the ludicrous, that I must 
not pass it over. We were in the habit of talking, 
laughing, and keeping up a racket in the dormitory for 
some time after retiring. This had been forbidden. 
One night when we were joking, telling stories and 
having our fun, the Superintendent slid slyly in and lis- 
tened for some time to the noise and confusion. Dur- 
ing a slight lull in the storm one of the boys heard a 
footstep, and supposing the Frenchman had come to lock 
the doors he called out, '* Halloo, John, have you 
brought my saddle home? " " David ! David! " came 
in a familiar voice, " where are you ? " but David was 
silent. His bed was found, however, the clothes stripped 
off, and the ratan brought down with terrible precision 
on his bare skin, raising a ridge at every blow. By this 
time it was very still as well as very dark in the bed- 
room. " George ! George ! " spoke out the same familiar 
voice, "where are you?" "Here 1 am, Mr. C, right 
this way." And there he was, sure enough, and in a 
moment the ratan was there too. The bed clothes were 
stripped off and his back and bare legs were cut in ridges. 
The storm of passion having now spent itself the Super- 
intendent walked quietly over to his own room, to 



190 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

repent, I hope, for this piece of cruelty, and to pray for 
moderation and Divine grace, which he and we all so 
much needed. He was naturally a kind-hearted man, 
and tried, I believe, to be a Christian, but he had great 
faith in the rod. The boys who had been so unmerci- 
fully castigated brought their complaint and flagellated 
backs before the managers, who at once relieved the 
Superintendent of his whipping prerogative, if not of 
his propensity. 

I think corporeal punishment is not now permitted in 
any of our Institutions ; at least I hope it is not. Other 
and more humane modes of punishment should be 
adopted. Flogging is so debasing and humiliating that 
it should be resorted to only under the most desperate 
circumstances. Obedience to parents may sometimes 
be enforced by this kind of discipline, but it should 
always be done with moderation, and without show of 
anger. Passion begets passion. When it becomes 
necessary to punish a child, let him feel that you do it 
in sorrow, and not in anger; that as our Heavenly 
Father chastises in love, so it is sometimes the duty of 
earthly parents. But this prerogative of parental gov- 
ernment should seldom if ever be delegated. 

Another instance in which strategy triumphed over 
what seemed to us to be rigorous rule, when open hos- 



Choh' Practice. 1 9 1 

tility must have proved disastrous, may be here men- 
tioned. The Superintendent, who knew about as much 
of music as a horse does of philosophy, made a rule that 
the band and choir should each practice two evenings 
every week, during the hours from prayers till bed-time, 
— or from eight to ten o'clock This we regarded as an 
infringement upon our rights, as this time had always 
been allowed us for recreation ; and we resolved to 
get as rhuch fun out of it as possible, and ultimately to 
defeat the project Accordingly, when the choir met for 
practice, we spent the time in laughing, talking, flirting, 
and occasionally singing a piece, just to keep the lion, — 
as we called the Super, — in his den. But he, having 
received reports of this kind of practice, appointed Miss 
Kate, one of the assistant music teachers, (who it was 
believed curried favor with the officers by reporting 
mischief,) to take charge of the choir, and to keep us 
singing, and to give us no time for chatting or flirting. 
On the next evening for choir practice. Miss Kate was 
on hand and took her position as leader. She ordered 
the organist to play Jackson's Te Deum, and us to sing 
it. Having improvised a short prelude, the organist 
started in with a full organ, but no one sang except 
Kate, who could hardly make her shrill, piping voice 
heard. She persevered however, to the end, and then 



192 Reminiscences of Institution Life, 

ordered the organist to play the Gloria in Excelsis, with 
3 light organ, which he did on the upper bank of keys, 
pianissimo. Having sung this through alone, she de- 
manded to know why we refused to sing. We replied 
that she was not our leader ; that we believed in a 
republican form of government, and had elected our 
leader by a unanimous vote ; we must decline, therefore, 
to be directed by any other. At this she left the chapel 
in high dudgeon, and doubtless reported the indignity 
she received, at headquarters : and we went on practic- 
ing in the old way, and were never afterward interfered 
with. 

In our band practice we followed out very much the 
same program. We spent most of the time in talking, 
telling stories and cracking jokes at each others' expense. 
One evening when we were having rather more lun and 
making rather more noise about it than usual, the Super 
came up to the music room and with some asperity in 
his voice announced that hereafter the band would prac- 
tice in the large school room, and that he himself would 
be present and oversee the matter. This was good 
enough. We entertained the highest respect for the 
Super's literary attainments, but we knew he had no ear 
for music, and couldn't tell Hail Cadoodle from Yankee 
Columbia. So we agreed to give him one of the loudest 



Band Practice. 193 

serenades he ever heard. We notified the boys who 
beat the drum and cymbals to be on hand, and to get as 
much noise out of those instruments as possible. On 
the next evening, true to his promise, the Super was 
there, and took his place behind the teacher's desk, with 
the evening paper, intending to improve the time by 
looking over the city news and gossip while we were 
blowing our wind away on some old march or quickstep 
that we had played over hundreds of times. The band 
was composed often instruments — a piccolo, three clari- 
nets, two French horns, two trombones, a drum and 
cymbals. At the signal of the leader, who played the 
E flat clarinet, we all struck in on Yankee Doodle with 
a blast that would have astonished a Chinese mandarin. 
The piccolo screamed, the clarinets shrieked, the horns 
bellowed, the trombones cracked, the drum thundered, 
and the cymbals slashed and clanged like a pair of Chi- 
nese gongs. Over and over we played the same piece, 
from forte to fortissimo, faster and faster, until the Super, 
finding it impossible to read in such a din, began to cry, 
" Stop ! stop ! " But his voice was drowned in a raging 
sea of music, — in the blast of the horns, the booming of 
the big drum and clash of cymbals. We blew until we 
could see stars, and rushed through the measures like 
so many race horses. At last he sprang to his feet, 



194 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

pounded on the desk, and shouted, " For heaven's sake, 
stop this noise ! " This time the leader heard and sig- 
naled " down brakes," but not until after several meas- 
ures could the trombones and horns call in the brass 
they had so liberally issued. When silence was restored 
Mr. C, said: "Boys, I am not much of a judge of 
music, but it seems to me you make more noise than 
necessary, and that your pieces are very monotonous." 
*' William," said he, addressing my friend who blew the 
tenor trombone, "don't you manage to get more noise out 
of that thing than music ? Hereafter you will practice in 
the music room as before, and I guess one evening in the 
week will be sufficient for us and for the neighborhood." 
Whether our Superintendent saw the point of the joke 
and knew that he was sold we were never able to deter- 
mine, but one thing is certain, it was a big note, and well 
played. 

The school room was in the second story and directly 
over the Superintendent's office. One evening a number 
of us older boys were in the room singing, dancing, and 
laughing very loud. Not that we had anything in par- 
ticular to laugh at, but more because there seemed to be 
so little to laugh about. In the midst of our hilarity 
the Superintendent came in and shouted, "Silence! 
silence, boys ! Why, you act like a pack of heathen. 



Visit of General Scott. 195 

What do you suppose the people outside think of us ? 
If I could have my way about it this minute, I'd have 
you all in the Lunatic Asylum." This effectually 
silenced us for the time, but the mischief was in us, and 
would break out occasionally. 

Having drawn out this article to a much greater 
length than I intended at the outset, I ought here to 
bite off the thread of my narrative ; but one event wor- 
thy of record is still quite fresh in my memory and 
deserves at least a passing notice. Sometime in the 
early part of the summer of 1847, it was announced to 
us that General Winfield Scott was in the city, and 
would pay a flying visit to the Institution. We had 
heard of the daring deeds of this brave man at the bat- 
tles of Lundy's Lane, Chippewa, Queenston Heights, 
&c., and of his ability as Commander-in-chief during the 
late war with Mexico, and we anticipated his coming 
with pleasure. The band practiced Hail to the Chief 
The Star Spangled Banner, Hail Columbia, and the 
American Doodle we could have played with our eyes 
shut, had we been deaf and dumb. Miss Crosby and 
Miss Bullock, who were the poets of the Institute, pre- 
pared reception speeches, praising the General's prow- 
ess in flowing numbers. In order to receive this gigan- 
tic military chieftain with all the honor and display of 



196 Reminiscences of InstiUition Life. 

which the Institute was capable, we, — the members of 
the band, were stationed in the front yard, at the en- 
trance of the great hall door. A number of the young 
ladies were dressed in white, and placed in a semicircle 
on the other side of the entrance. Floral decorations 
beautified the parlors, halls and chapel. When the 
General and his attendants alighted from their carriage, 
we were ready at the signal to strike up Hail to the 
Chief, which we really played very well, and with great 
enthusiasm. The General came up, was introduced to 
the faculty, shook hands with each member of the band, 
bowed and gave his hand to the ladies, and then march- 
ed up into the chapel. After a short and very appro- 
priate address of welcome by the Superintendent, the 
choir and singing classes accompanied by the great 
organ, sang in chorus, Hail the Conqueror of Many 
Battles. The General's rather pompous reply I cannot" 
now recall ; but he said in substance : " I did not antici- 
pate this cordial greeting. It is as unexpected as unde- 
served. If I have served my country, I have only done 
my duty. But I am happy on this occasion, to see so 
many bright faces, and to hear so many cheerful voices 
where I supposed sorrow clouded the brow, and grief 
filled the heart." After some complimentary remarks 
to the officers, the tall General, who stood six feet five 



Visit of General Scott. 1 97 

inches in his military boots, — sat down, but was even 
then as high as many of the city magnates who stood 
about him. Miss Fanny Crosby then delivered an orig- 
inal poem in her usual felicitous style, after which the 
gallant General arose, and presented his sword to the 
facetious Fanny, saying, " I have never surrendered this 
sword to any man, but to the charms and witchery of 
woman, I always surrender, — not only my sword, but 
my heart." 

I regret, now, that I did not keep a journal of my 
Institution life, so that I might have given to the public 
fuller, and more accurate reports of those great occa- 
sions. I had intended in these pages, to give my read- 
ers some account of the routine of duties and labors at 
such an Institution ; — of the studies pursued, of the 
various methods of instruction adopted, of the progress 
we were able to make in the arts, sciences, literature 
and mechanics ; — of the sports and amusements in 
which we engaged ; how we danced with the dining 
room girls, flirted with the seamstresses, and took clan- 
destine strolls and promenades with the girls by imagin- 
ary moonlight; but the limit of this present volume 
will not allow. 

I trust that what I have here written, will not be con- 
strued into any invidious design on my part, to take 



iqS Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

sides against the officers, or to place them in a false 
light before the world. J have written only what I 
believe to be the truth. I had a strong affection for the 
old Institution, and my attachments lasted for many 
years. Its spacious rooms, its echoing halls, its shaded 
walks and play-grounds still live in my dreams. While 
a pupil, I looked forward with a sort of dread, to the 
time when I should be obliged to cut loose from the 
fostering care and protection of the old home in which 
I had spent eight of the happiest years of my life, when 
I must leave its safe and quiet harbor, and push out into 
the rough sea of life to paddle for myself Many of the 
graduates had the same feeling, and lingered within 
hailing distance of the old ship ; but I manned my little 
bark with all the fortitude I could muster, and pushed 
boldly out for myself It is now more that twenty-five 
years since I thus weighed anchor and started on the 
voyage of life alone. I have had some smooth sailing, 
and some rough seas and adverse winds. At the age of 
thirty-five I entered the harbor of matrimony, and took 
in a mate who has bravely done her part to keep the 
craft afloat. We have picked up little waifs from time 
to time, which the angels let drop from their wings, 
until we have now five, — making in all a crew of seven, 
— which I fear would swamp my little bark if the Lord's 



Conclusion. 1 99 

hand were not beneath us, and his loving arms around 
us. Sometimes the skies seem very dark and threaten- 
ing, for the competition between eyes and fingers is all 
unequal, the balance being largely in favor of eyes. 

The world is slow to believe that a man without sight 
can do any thing as well as a man who can see. Nor 
do I wonder at this. Men who rely so entirely on their 
sight for all that they do, cannot understand how these 
same things can be as well done without sight. I am 
often astonished that people place so much confidence 
in us as they do. I bring no complaint against the 
American people, having always received a reasonable 
amount of patronage in my enterprises. Therefore I 
am not misanthropic. I believe in God and humanity, 
and at fifty years of age, with nothing to fall back upon 
but my own efforts, and the help of my noble wife, I 
write with my own hand a new book, hoping by its sale 
to support my family, clothe, feed and educate my 
children. If in this I fail, God only knows what I shall 
do. Would that I might fully accept the wise counsel 
of the inspired poet, who says: "Cast thy burden upon 
the Lord and he shall sustain thee." 

Should I never be permitted to write another line, or 
to speak another word of solemn warning to my friends 



200 Reminiscences of Institution Life. 

and children, I would say with my last breath, " Trust 
in God, and try to lift up fallen humanity." 

Whoever lives for self, and self alone, 

Shall die at last in debt to Earth and Heaven ; 

To Earth, for countless blessings shared by none ; 
To Heaven, for grateful tributes never given. 

But he who lives to elevate his race. 

To lift the fallen and the poor down trod, 

Shall see the Savior in his mirrored face. 
And walk the world with Charity and God. 



LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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